


Tikkun Olam

by noodle_kugel



Series: Tikkun Olam [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: 2006, 2007, Angst, Elio is patient, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, M/M, Oliver is a doting parent, Oliver is stubborn, Original Character Death(s), Sequel, Sexting, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-06-20 23:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 72
Words: 185,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15544482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodle_kugel/pseuds/noodle_kugel
Summary: It’s 2006, Oliver’s wife has passed away in a car accident, and Oliver and his two sons are still picking up the pieces of their recently shattered lives.  Ari, Oliver’s older son, is at the top of his class but is a bit of a troublemaker, while Vic, his younger son, is an introspective musician.After overhearing Oliver and Elio speak at Vic’s Bar Mitzvah, and after a disappointing meeting with a college adviser, Oliver’s sons secretly hatch a plan to rekindle a romance and destiny twenty years in the making.





	1. The Big Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading - this story is going to be a slow burn, but I hope you’ll stick with it through the end. I’m going to switch chapters each time the narrator changes, so the story is going to take a while, but it’s going to look longer than it actually is. I’m planning on telling this through three first-person perspectives: Oliver, Elio and Oliver’s son Ari (you’ll soon see why I need to have some of the story happen away from Oliver and Elio’s eyes). Leave me some comments if you have anything to say! 
> 
> Also, if you have any questions about the Jewish stuff in this story, feel free to ask me. I promise I won’t lean too heavily on it after the first few chapters, but the Bar Mitzvah is just my way of putting Oliver and Elio in the same place in a sort of organic way, and it works with the timeline I had in my head in terms of how old Oliver’s sons would be.
> 
> I’m playing a bit with the canon - assume book unless something from the movie is explicitly referenced. I’m using the book timeline, but there are a few things from the movie that I think work better (e.g., the Perlmans’ names, the friendship between Elio and Marzia. Also, I didn’t love the “butchers and bakers” thing, so I’m sticking with the way the movie established that Elio ignored Marzia after the midnight scene). This story takes place during Ghost Spots, 4 years after Elio shows up at Oliver’s lecture - this story occurs instead of the last portion, when Oliver visits 20 years later. Last, nothing terrible has happened to Professor or Mrs. Perlman - they are alive and well.

_**POV: Oliver, September 2, 2006** _

I stood at the mirror with my younger son, Victor, adjusting the boy’s tie and fixing his wavy brown hair. “You look so handsome in that suit, your mother would have loved to see this,” I said, wiping a stray tear from the corner of my eye.

“I wish she was here for this too, dad,” Vic said, resting his chin on his fist, looking at his reflection. “I miss her so much. Today is going to be rough.”

“I miss her, too, but we have to get through it. Anyway, the party tonight will be fun, even if the service is going to be LAME,” Ariel said, as he brushed his dirty blond hair in the mirror, mussing it a bit. At sixteen, my elder son Ari stood nearly 6’3”, having grown several inches this past summer. I sometimes worried that at the rate the boy was growing, he would soon dwarf even me. Vic was practically a foot shorter than I was, however, he was due for a growth spurt any year now.

Today was Vic’s Bar Mitzvah. We had started planning the event over a year ago, but swiftly dropped all planning after tragedy struck, and haphazardly resumed during the summer. I wanted my son to have a good memory of the religious coming of age ceremony, and the grief counselor said it was important to both maintain some semblance of normalcy and give the boys something to look forward to.

* * *

Seven months earlier, my wife of nearly 18 years, Deborah, died in a car accident on her way to work. Deborah, a calculus professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, was caught in a storm on her drive to Cambridge from our home in Brookline, and her car swerved off the road, hitting a tree. The paramedics say that she died instantly. That’s what I wanted my sons to believe, anyway, as if the acute shock of her death would be mitigated slightly knowing that she suffered little. I had been in my office at Tufts University when I received the dreaded phone call.

Deborah and I had dated on and off for two years while we were both doctoral students at Columbia. We met through a mutual friend at Hillel, who set us up on a blind date purely because he thought our height differential was funny, with Deb standing at barely five feet tall, compared to my gargantuan frame. We hit it off immediately, and the chemistry was palpable, but our relationship was fiery. After a big fight, we’d break up for a few weeks, and then resume the relationship when the other was lonely. She was attractive, smart, funny, driven, and a good person, but I was young and couldn’t give my all to the relationship. Ultimately, we had broken up amicably, but for good, several months before I left for Italy in the summer of 1987. Deb announced that she had feelings for a colleague named David in the math department and wanted to make it work with him. I was fine with it, I wanted her to be happy, and we decided we’d remain friends.

Several weeks after I returned from my life-changing summer in Italy, I ran into Deb at a graduate student Shabbat dinner, both of us depressed and heartbroken. After getting drunk on the cheap Kosher wine, Deb and I left together, taking a walk around Riverside Park, chatting about our summers. Deb mentioned that David had broken up with her a month earlier, as he had cheated on her and had gotten his mistress pregnant. He was going to “do the right thing,” as it was, and go down to City Hall the next week and get married.

Inebriated and uninhibited from the gallon of Manischewitz I estimated that I downed at dinner, I told Deb the truth about my summer with Elio, and how I’d never felt quite that level of intimacy with anyone else before. The floodgates were opened and honesty poured out. I’d been with other men before, mostly one night stands in college and graduate school, and obviously had been with women, and I made sure to tell her that I had never cheated on her while we were together, which was true. The connection I experienced that summer was on another level, but Elio was just a teenager and I had to let him grow and become his own person. We wouldn’t be in the same place in our lives for a long time, and he needed to have his own life experiences. Not to mention that my parents would likely never speak to me again if they found out.

Deb said that she had always suspected I liked men, too, and that it never bothered her. It felt good to come clean to her - it was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. We made our way back to my studio apartment on 112th and Broadway, where we clumsily slept together. The next morning, hungover and sober, we had a long conversation, and decided that they were both incredibly unhappy but we were never unhappy together, so we might as well be together if we can’t be with the ones we truly love.

Ours was more a partnership and a friendship than a romance, but it worked for Deb and me. The sex was serviceable, and we enjoyed each other’s company, and respected one another. By Thanksgiving, we decided that we would get married the following year. It all made total sense - our families wanted us to marry someone nice and Jewish (though I wasn’t the right kind of doctor her parents were hoping for), and we both wanted to have children. We married in the summer of 1988.

After we both graduated from Columbia, we moved to Brookline, Massachusetts, where we both received teaching offers at Boston-area universities. Our first child, Ari, was born in March 1990, and he was followed soon after by Vic in September 1993. Deb and I were happy enough, and I adored being a father more than anything else, but I never stopped thinking about Italy and what could have been.

* * *

 

“Vic, I can’t believe you’re making us wear these stupid ties. Sheet music pattern? Really?” Ari said in the car on the way to the synagogue.

“Be nice to your brother, it’s his Bar Mitzvah, and it’s what he wanted,” I said. “In any case, we all wore those garish Red Sox ties to your Bar Mitzvah, is this really any worse?” I noticed in the rearview mirror that Ari had stuck his tongue out at me.

“I like the ties,” Vic said from the passenger seat, “Mom helped me pick them out a few weeks before she died.” The boy knew how to end a conversation.

We arrived at the synagogue before the service was to begin so Vic could practice his Haftorah and speech one last time. Ari was uncharacteristically compliant and helpful, and stood at the entrance to the sanctuary, handing the customized yarmulkes covered in music notes and treble and bass clefs to the male guests so they could cover their heads, while I sat up front with Vic, helping calm his nerves. My son was usually collected before his instrumental performances, but he didn’t want to sing in front of the crowd. Life is hilariously cruel that way - during the most awkward year of your life, while your voice cracks and acne takes over your face, you have to participate in a religious ceremony that involves singing, and have hundreds of staged photographs taken of you. Last night, I showed Vic how chubby and awkward I was at my own Bar Mitzvah, and looking at the pictures seemed to have minimally assuaged some fears.

The service went as expected (it was boring and slow, as Ari predicted, but Vic did well reading/singing his Haftorah). Vic stood at the bimah and took index cards out of his coat pocket, ready to read his speech.

“Thank you everyone for coming to my Bar Mitzvah service today. In Judaism, they say you’ve become a man after your Bar Mitzvah, but if I’m being honest, I feel like both an old man and a young boy today. This past year has been rough on my family, and I think we’ve all aged decades in the seven months since my mother died. I miss her terribly, and I think that she would have loved nothing more than to be here today. Sometimes I feel like an old man who understands grief, but at other times, I’m just a little boy who just wants to hug his mom and can’t. I don’t mean to make this a sad speech, but it’s important for me to acknowledge my family’s loss so we can try to celebrate what is otherwise a happy occasion today. Isn’t that what Judaism is about? Being resilient in times of overwhelming duress.”

He continued for a few index cards, speaking about his torah portion and how it relates to American Jewish life, as well as his own life.

“I want to thank Rabbi Zelnick for being patient with me and helping me learn my Haftorah, and my Hebrew School teachers for teaching me about my culture and how to read Hebrew. I even want to thank my brother, Ari. While he’s sometimes annoying and loves to pick on me, I don’t think I could have gotten through this past year without him. Last, I want to thank my dad, for having this party for me in the first place when none of us could really think about planning it, and also for helping me with my homework, for pushing me to continue with my piano lessons when I was too sad to get out of bed, and for being the rock that our family needed, even when I’m sure he just wanted to crawl into bed, too.

“In Hebrew School, we learned about this Jewish idea called tikkun olam, which literally means repair the world. My teachers have said that the religion suggests we should live our lives in a way that always gives back to the planet, to always do mitzvot and give tzedakah. Though some interpret tikkun olam as literally repairing the planet, we now see it more as the need and desire to do societal good to selflessly make the world a better place. With that in mind, while my dad says I have to put half of my Bar Mitzvah money into my college fund, I plan on donating the other half to an organization that provides new musical instruments to low income public schools and children in need. Music has always been my happy place, where I can go to when I’m feeling down, and it’s the best way that I can think of to give back so that others who are less fortunate have the same opportunities I have. Maybe this will help repair the world a little. Thank you.”

I quickly went up to the bimah with Ari, tears in my eyes, and swept up both of my sons into the tightest hug I could muster. Vic had told me that he didn’t want me to see his speech ahead of time, so I had no idea about the donation, but I was so proud of him (if this had been Ari, I would have insisted on seeing the speech, because who knows what stunt he would have pulled). When did my thirteen year old son get so mature? I had to regain my composure quickly, because Rabbi Zelnick signaled that it was my turn to give a speech.

After raising the microphone to my height, eliciting a chuckle from the congregation, and clearing the frog in my throat, I looked at Vic and began to speak from the heart, rather than using the speech I had already written. “Vic, I am so proud of you today. Allow me to turn into my bubbe for a minute, and say that your mother would have been kvelling. She wanted nothing more than for you and your brother to grow up happy, healthy, loved and educated, and she would have been thrilled to see the man that you’ve become today.” I reached into my coat pocket and took out a small jewelry box. “Your mother bought this last year when she was in Jerusalem for a conference, so she could give it to you today. This Star of David necklace, like the one we gave Ari for his Bar Mitzvah, and the one that I’ve worn most of my life, symbolizes the plight of our people. We were persecuted for generations so that we can live freely, practice religion as we want to, and be who we are with no fear. We may not be particularly observant - sorry, Rabbi - but it’s important that we remember where we came from and who we are. I hope you’ll wear this proudly.” I put the necklace on Vic, who was visibly holding back tears.

I looked out into the congregation, and continued. “Once again, thank you all for being here to honor the occasion of Vic’s Bar Mitzvah. It means so much that you are all here, celebrating with us.” I scanned the faces in the crowd, and that’s when I locked eyes with him. How did I miss those big green eyes that can bore a hole into your soul, and those curls that he was unsuccessfully trying to quash under the yarmulke?

Elio nodded at me as we made eye contact, and I lost my composure, forgetting everything I had planned on saying. “So… thanks for coming, enjoy the Kiddush, and we’ll see most of you tonight at the catering hall for the party.”

What was he doing here? I had kept up a regular correspondence with Professor Perlman for the past twenty years, but I’d spoken to Elio exactly twice in the past eleven years. He had surprised me in my lecture hall several years ago (it was four years ago. I know exactly when it was, how could I forget?), and had completely taken me by surprise. It was wonderful to see him then, almost like waking from a fifteen year coma, but I had decided that I’d never be able to see him again without feeling the same pain that I felt that last day in Italy. Back then, despite everything we were mutually feeling, I did not want to cheat on my wife with him. Seeing Elio, even briefly, brought back emotions I had buried deep, and I tried very hard to stifle them, but they were quickly arising today.

Samuel and Annella had responded yes to the Bar Mitzvah, and though I was surprised that they were flying in from Italy just for this occasion, after Deb’s death, nearly everyone we invited had said they were attending. However, they were the only Perlmans I had invited. Elio was now sitting in the back row of the sanctuary with his father. He had aged gracefully, looking even more handsome than the last time I had seen him, and had thankfully shaved that beard he’d had four years prior. I’d never seen him in a suit before, and it, well, suited him. I would need the rest of the afternoon before the party to recover from seeing him, and I’d need to avoid him until we left the synagogue. I knew myself and what I truly desired, and if I got too close to him… I didn’t even want to finish that thought. Why was he here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a little bit of a lesson in Judaism/Bar Mitzvahs/defining the Jewish terms to help you through this chapter. Feel free to skip this if you already know/don’t care (knowing this is not essential to enjoying the story, it just might make some of the Bar Mitzvah portion make a little more sense).
> 
> Bar Mitzvah: literally means “son of the commandment”. This is a coming of age ceremony for Jewish boys on or around their 13th birthday (for girls, it’s called a Bat Mitzvah, bat meaning daughter, and women can have their bat mitzvah starting at age 12). Once you have your Bar Mitzvah ceremony, you are considered a full-fledged member of the religious Jewish community.
> 
> The typical American Bar/Bat Mitzvah goes a little like this: the kid goes to Hebrew School after school or on Sunday mornings once or twice a week for a few years. You don’t actually learn that much - you learn how to read Hebrew (literally, how to read the characters, not how to speak it), the major blessings that you do at religious services, some of the history of the religion, and bible stories.
> 
> At your Bar Mitzvah, you lead the Saturday morning Shabbat service (Shabbat is the sabbath, there’s a Friday night and Saturday morning service), and then you officially “become a man/woman” and are called to read from the Torah, which is the first 5 books of the Old Testament. In some synagogues, you literally just stand there while the Rabbi reads from the Torah, and in others, you are taught how to do it and do the reading yourself. The Torah is divided into portions assigned to each week of the Hebrew calendar, so the section of the Torah you are called to read that week is the “Torah portion.”
> 
> Then, at least in Conservative Judaism, you read the Haftorah, which is a reading from the book of Prophets. The week’s Haftorah is usually related to the week’s Torah reading. Sometimes they’re just stories, and sometimes they’re more philosophical. The Haftorah reading is actually sung - the Hebrew letters have symbols above and below them, and these indicate music notes or ways/flourishes to sing. I’m not doing this justice, but just imagine a 13-year old standing in front of a crowd of possibly a couple of hundred people, singing very strange notes in Hebrew. It’s a sight to behold. Also take into account that most people, including the kid, have no idea what is actually being said. After all of that, the kid is usually expected to give some speech that talks about the importance of Judaism in their lives, or about what they just read in the Torah, and you thank everyone for helping you with your Bar Mitzvah. Orange is the New Black (season 6, episode 4) shows Nicky’s Bat Mitzvah, with her reading from the Torah and giving her speech. I recommend that if everything I’ve said makes no sense - it puts it into visual context.
> 
> After the service, most families host a party (think a Sweet 16 or a quinceañera or a wedding) for the Bar Mitzvah kid. The party is usually held Saturday afternoon or evening, or on Sunday. These parties are ridiculous and often outlandish. We’ll get to the party in another chapter, so I’ll explain the traditions I’ll reference when we get to it.
> 
> \---
> 
> Other Jewish terms I mention in this:
> 
> Shabbat: Jewish sabbath, from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday
> 
> Bimah: the stage where the Rabbi stands in front of the congregation
> 
> Kiddush: the ceremony where you bless wine, challah (bread) and food. It’s usually a small reception with food after a Jewish service. It also means the blessing that you say on the wine.
> 
> Yarmulke: the head covering that Jewish men wear in synagogue, and that some men always wear. Also called a kippah.
> 
> Tzedakah: this is a Jewish moral obligation for charitable giving. It literally means “justice” in Hebrew, you’re taught in Hebrew School that you should always be giving what you can to charitable causes/the needy. It’s like how other religions expect you to tithe your income, except this is an obligation to give what you can and not a specified amount.
> 
> Mitzvah: two meanings. First is commandment. As a Jew, you’re supposed to follow the letter of religious law, like all of the commandments. The term is usually used with the second meaning, which is doing good/charitable acts. Where as tzedakah is an obligation, a mitzvah is often altruistic. Judaism has these weird lines that I don’t really fully understand.
> 
> Tikkun Olam - the namesake of our story! I defined it in Vic’s speech, but basically, it’s this idea that we have this obligation to repair the world and fix what we’ve broken as humanity, and make it better for future generations. It’s mostly used now to mean that we as humans should find ways to do good for the benefit of others. A lot of Jewish-affiliated charity groups talk about tikkun olam as a mission of their organization. It’s a popular term now.


	2. Mazel Tov!

_**POV Elio, September 2, 2006** _

I had been preparing myself all week for this moment, but making eye contact with Oliver knocked the wind out of me. It was taking every ounce of restraint to not run up to the bimah and pounce on him. My father noticed the way I was longingly staring at Oliver during his speech, and put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. He knew how difficult this was for me, seeing Oliver with his children. It was the life we never had together.

Oliver hadn’t invited me to the Bar Mitzvah, and I wasn’t supposed to be here. Four days ago, during our weekly Skype session (my parents were reluctant to switch from the telephone to Skype, but I made the cogent argument that free is better than paying international fees, and it meant we could speak more often), my father said that he and my mother were supposed to fly to Massachusetts for Oliver’s younger son’s Bar Mitzvah, but my mother’s hip was acting up.  Her doctor recommended that she not take the flight. My father suggested that I take a train up to Boston and attend in her stead, since they’d already RSVP’d for two. That way, he’d get to see me, and he wouldn’t have to take the additional trip down to New Jersey. He was sure Oliver wouldn’t mind. By the looks of it, he minded and was completely unaware he was exchanging one Perlman for another.

* * *

 

In February, I knew that something bad had happened when my father called me on the telephone, unscheduled. Oliver had told him that his wife had passed away in an accident, and let him know about the funeral. I thought it would be best if I didn’t attend, but I did send him food (a Jewish tradition) and made a donation in his wife’s name to their requested charity. I wished I could be there for him, to hold him when he was upset and help him through his mourning.

I moved to the United States at 18, and spent my entire academic time at Yale, going straight from undergraduate to a doctoral program. After I earned my doctorate of musical arts at 27 from Yale, and did a postdoc at Brown for a couple of years (my Providence apartment was 48 miles from Oliver’s Brookline home, but who’s counting?), I’d been teaching music composition and theory at Princeton University, and lived in a small house in Princeton, New Jersey. My work is occasionally played by orchestras and ensembles around the world, but teaching and playing remain my priority over composing. I’m relatively happy - I have a great career, friends all over the world, and a loving family. My life has been fulfilling, but there is a conspicuous Oliver-sized gap that has never been filled. That isn’t to say that I haven’t dated or been sexually adventurous. I’ve had many relationships and relations, with both women and men. It’s just difficult to ever commit to someone when I know that Oliver is out there, and not with me. I’ve had a few partners I’ve considered taking the plunge to marriage or commitment with, but it just never happened.

* * *

 

Seeing him today did not reignite any passion or desire, because the flame had never subsided. I knew I couldn’t act on anything, nor did I want to, as his wife had only recently passed away, but I had to speak with him today to apologize for not being in touch since the accident. During the ceremony, I watched the way he interacted with his sons - he was gentle and loving, exactly how I imagined he would be as a father. He looked at his sons with such love and admiration, it was almost easy to forgive him for the pain he caused me when he said he was getting married and couldn’t be with me. He was meant to be a father, something I could have never given him.

His older boy is a spitting image of him - I nearly did a double take when he handed me a yarmulke. He’s what I picture Oliver to have looked like as a teenager - all limbs and floppy hair, growing into his athletic build. The younger boy is shorter and has softer features with curly, darker hair. He seems like an old soul trapped in a pubescent thirteen year old body.

As the service let out into the adjacent room for the Kiddush, I looked around for Oliver. I wanted to go over to him, but he was surrounded by several old women, who appeared to be simultaneously congratulating him and taking pity on Oliver the widower. If I went over and hugged him now, no one would bat an eye. I had been mentally rehearsing what I wanted to say to him the entire Amtrak ride to Boston. Before I could make my way to him, the Rabbi grabbed him and had him perform several blessings with Vic. Our reunion was going to have to wait - right now, his family’s celebration was more important.

I grabbed two plates of challah and cookies, and joined my father at a small round table in the middle of the room. My father the schmoozer had already found three other university professors, and they were having a lively academic discussion about Vic’s speech. I watched Oliver make his way around the room with his older son, and noted how Ari had the same easy grace. Whenever I saw Oliver moving toward my table, he’d look at me, and then navigate in the other direction.  Very subtle.

Vic, however, sat alone at a table, tearing up and crumbling a napkin into small pieces, looking bored and miserable. I felt sorry for the boy - he seemed lonely and could probably use a friend. I excused myself from the table and sat down next to him. “Mazel tov, Victor!” I said, offering him my hand.

“Uh, thanks,” Vic said. “Have we met? Are you one of my dad’s coworkers?”

I smiled. “No, I’m an old friend. Elio Perlman, Professor Samuel Perlman’s son.”  His eyes lit up in recognition once I mentioned my father. My name seemed to not ring any bells. “My dad has seen you a few times over the years, and I think you visited my parents’ villa in Italy when you were little.”

“Yeah! I don’t really remember it, but Ari says we had a great time, and that the food was amazing.”

“That, it is. My parents’ housekeeper, Mafalda, is the best cook in the world.”  I took a bite of a cookie, and continued. “I see that you’re a musician?”

Vic grinned and sat up straight. Now I was speaking his language. “Music is my life! I play the piano and guitar, and I play all of the woodwind instruments in my school orchestra, though I’m best at clarinet."

"Clarinet, huh? I was never great at playing woodwinds, myself," I said.

"Right now, I’m learning the oboe - they say that’ll help on my college applications. I like playing the flute at school, though, because I’m usually the only boy in a section of girls, and that’s pretty much the only time girls pay attention to me. Piano is my favorite instrument, though.”

“Piano is my favorite, too - I've played my entire life. I actually have a doctorate in music, and teach music theory and composition at Princeton! I occasionally compose, too - a piece of mine was actually performed by an ensemble in a music festival in Paris last year.”

“That is SO COOL! I think I want to be a professional musician when I grow up, but I’ve always wanted to learn how to compose.”  Vic tucked a stray curl behind his ear as he animatedly talked about his experience playing in school bands and summer music programs. He told me about his school band, and how it’s sometimes hard to play when most of the other students don’t care or practice, and when his teacher can barely conduct. I looked up and saw Oliver continuously making rounds in the room, never standing alone. We locked eyes once more, and he smiled softly, but did not come over.

“If you’re ever in New Jersey, I can give you a composing lesson.”  We were discussing some of the pieces he was currently playing in his after school music program when Ari came over and grabbed Vic, saying they were needed to take some family pictures. Vic apologized, and left with his brother. As Oliver walked out of the room soon after, I couldn’t help but take a brief glimpse at how his slim fit suit pants framed the curves of the apricot. I quickly shook the image out of my head, and got up, rejoining my father, still immersed in conversation with the professors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following along, and thank you for your comments! This is going to be a bit of a journey, but I hope it’ll pay off for you. I apologize for all of the background/exposition for Oliver and Elio, but I wanted to fill in some of the gaps between when Elio and Oliver parted in 1987 and Vic’s Bar Mitzvah in 2006. There will be less of this going forward.
> 
> I tried to make Elio’s background align with the slim details provided in the book, but took some artistic licenses.
> 
> I think I covered all of the Jewish/Bar Mitzvah things in the previous chapter, let me know if I’ve forgotten to explain anything, and I’ll help!


	3. The Party Begins

_**POV: Oliver, September 2, 2006** _

As we stood at the bimah, taking pictures of the three Morgenstern men, I thought about Elio sitting and speaking with Vic. What did he tell Vic about the nature of our relationship? I’m sure he was discreet. I had never told the boys about him, beyond that Professor Perlman had a son, and I’m not sure what I wanted them to know. How do you explain to your teenage sons that their presumably straight father also slept with men, one of whom he never quite got over? Elio and Vic must have been speaking about music, because Vic had been grinning like a fool, and at one point, mimed being a conductor, to which Elio put his head on his arm and laughed. I liked how easy their rapport seemed in just a brief conversation. Vic was a hard nut to crack, and was shy around most people, especially since Deb’s death, but he seemed to have taken to Elio very quickly.

By the time we had finished taking the family photos, most of the congregation and guests, including both Perlmans, had departed. We had several hours to kill before the party that evening, so I took the boys for some pizza, and we went home to rest. After a quick nap, we changed into more casual suits (but kept the ugly ties - Ari was right, but I wasn’t going to agree with him aloud) and headed to the catering hall. We left our things in the venue’s bridal suite, and the party planner escorted us into a small room where guests would soon be ushered in.

The cocktail hour was busy - I was swarmed with extended family and friends who wanted to let me know how sad they were that Deb couldn’t be there, and how sorry they felt for Vic to have his Bar Mitzvah so soon after such a tragedy. I kept repeating that I just wanted this to be normal for him, and for him to look back on his Bar Mitzvah with fond memories. Each time someone mentioned Deb, I felt a sad pang in the pit of my stomach.

Sammy was in line for the bar, sans Elio, who I noticed was at a food station, being prodded by Deb’s two older aunts. I bet they were saying that someone from their water aerobics class at the JCC has a granddaughter from Scarsdale with a lazy eye you hardly notice, but who would be perfect for Elio. They had recently started dropping hints about women they already wanted to set me up with, since “Deborah wouldn’t want me raising the boys alone." I went over to Sammy, gave him a tight hug and thanked him for flying in for the Bar Mitzvah. “Pro! It’s SO good to see you! Thank you so much for flying in just for this! It means the world to me, you have no idea.”

“Oliver!” He exclaimed, managing to drag my name into three slow syllables. “We’re so sorry Annella couldn’t be here - her doctor wouldn’t let her fly with her hip acting up. I certainly hope it’s all right that I brought Elio in her place.”

I nodded and replied, “Of course! Any Perlman is welcome here.” But maybe not the music professor who was currently chowing down pigs in a blanket two at a time while being ogled by two women in their 70s. I had to keep reminding myself that this was not the time or place to reconnect. I was not ready for it. My wife had passed away this year, and it would be disrespectful to her memory to see someone, or even sleep with someone, so soon. Not to mention how much it would hurt the boys. I didn’t want to do anything to tarnish her memory or our relationship in their eyes.

Sammy put his hand on my arm, and asked, “I assume you have been inundated with questions like this, but how are you and the boys holding up? I was so sorry to hear about your loss - from the few times we’d met her, Deb seemed like a great person and a wonderful mother.”

“Honestly, it’s been tough not having her here today. I’ve been holding it together for the boys, especially for Vic, but life has to go on, right?”

A cocktail waiter came over to us and offered us some shrimp. In between bites, Sammy replied, “I do hope you’ve been taking care of yourself, too.”

We spoke for another minute or two, as he caught me up on his research and about how he was thinking of maybe retiring in the next few years. I was soon swept away by the photographer, who wanted some pictures of Vic, Ari and myself, pretending to mingle with guests, instead of actually letting me mingle.

As the cocktail hour wound down and guests were escorted into the main hall, the emcee grabbed me and said that it was time to start our family procession onto the dance floor. The DJ blasted “Let’s Get it Started” by the Black Eyed Peas, and called for me to dance into the room. I had briefly forgotten we had to do this, and was not looking forward to it. I’ve been accused of “dad dancing,” though now that I was a dad, I suppose it’s a forgivable offense.

Once everyone was seated, the emcee pumped up the audience, encouraging them to clap along to the music. “Please welcome Vic’s dad, Oliver! Everyone, cheer for the professor!” I was shoved through the double doors, and danced my way into the room, attempting my best running man and cabbage patch. I passed by the Perlmans’ table on my way to the center of the dance floor, and Elio appeared to be stifling laughter.

“Put your hands together for Vic’s older brother, Ari!” Ari glided into the room skillfully, pumping his fists, clearly enjoying the attention, eventually joining me in the center of the room. “Last, but certainly not least, the champion, the winner, the conqueror, our man of the hour, Victor Morgenstern!” Vic turned white, and did not move an inch until the party planner quite literally pushed him into the room. He very awkwardly stumbled to the dance floor, with a look of sheer terror on his face. The party planner kept shouting, “DANCE!,” so Vic bobbed his head a bit, scurrying as quickly as he could toward me. While Ari can command a room, Vic would rather be in the corner, unnoticed. The only time he can stomach attention is when he is playing music, surprisingly, even when he’s playing alone. He truly comes alive when he plays, especially when he’s on the piano - he reminds me of Elio in that regard. One day, I think he’ll gain more confidence in other areas of his life.

The emcee escorted Vic to the center, as two carts were wheeled to the dance floor - one containing a large loaf of challah and a glass of wine, and another with a giant cake, covered in sheet music motifs. Tradition states that elder male relatives perform the motzi (the blessing on the bread) and kiddush (blessing on the wine), but since we didn’t have much in the way of family - both of my parents and both of Deb’s parents had passed away in the past fifteen years - Ari performed the motzi and I the kiddish. Ari asked for a sip of the wine and I glared at him, trying to silently tell him that this was neither not the time nor the place for his antics.

Ari and I then sat down, as Vic was handed a microphone and began his candle-lighting ceremony. At the Bar Mitzvah party, you typically light 14 candles - one for each year you’ve been alive, and the last for good luck. The Bar Mitzvah boy usually reads something quick about each candle and invites someone or a group of people up to light each candle.

“This first candle is in memory of my mother, Deborah Feinberg Morgenstern. I know I spoke about this earlier, but I wish that she could have been here today to celebrate and light a later candle with me, instead of having a candle dedicated in her memory, but such is life. Mom, I love you, and this candle is for you.” There was not a dry eye in the house.

“This next candle is honor of my other deceased relatives with whom I’ve had a relationship. It seems my family has not had any lack of tragedy, so this candle is in honor of Grandma and Grandpa Morgenstern, Grandma and Grandpa Feinberg, Great Uncle Moishe, Great Aunt Rivka, and any family that has come before whom I did not have the pleasure to meet. I also wanted to specifically mention my dad’s bubbe, Anna, and my mom’s aunt Ada, both of whom Ari is named after, and my dad’s friend Vimini, after whom I am named. Mom and Dad used to tell us that we were both named after strong and intelligent women, and that we should live our lives in a way that would make them proud and honor their memories.”

I looked over at Elio’s table, and I noticed Sammy wiping tears from his eye with his napkin. Elio was looking contemplatively at his feet. I had never told them I’d named my son after Vimini.

Vic continued his ceremony, calling up his classmates, a few distant cousins, his piano teacher, Ari and myself, and more. After the ceremony, the crowd sang Happy Birthday to Vic, and he blew out his candles, closing his eyes tightly as he made a wish. The cake was wheeled off of the dance floor, and the DJ immediately called for everyone to make their way to the center of the floor, ready to dance the hora.

The hora is a fairly simple dance - as klezmer music plays, everyone grabs hands in one large circle or a few concentric circles, and you run around the circle to the music, occasionally raising your arms and moving closer to the center, and then moving backward again. Those skilled at Israeli or Jewish folk dancing claim that there are actual steps and footwork involved, but no one actually knows it. People will occasionally partner off and do-si-do in the center of the circle. I was holding Vic’s hand on one side, and a cousin’s on my other, when I noticed Sammy in the corner of my eye dragging Elio into the circle. Before I knew it, as if Sammy had intentionally pushed him there (I think he intentionally pushed him there), Elio was next to me, holding my hand during the hora.

A rush of memories flooded my head and time briefly stood still as he squeezed my hand tightly. It had been so long since I had held that hand, run my fingers along his palm, sucked on each digit in my mouth. When we were together, Elio was almost always touching me if we were alone, using those hands and fingers to graze my neck, run his fingers along my chest, or squeeze my bicep, among other things that I realized I should stop thinking about because we were at my son’s Bar Mitzvah. As we continued to run around the circle to the punctuated rhythms of Hava Nagila, I felt his thumb strategically but gently run across my wrist, sending a shiver down my spine. Before I had time to process whether I would ignore or reciprocate, I was grabbed into the inside of the circle by the emcee, who had placed a chair at the center of the dance floor.

It was time for each of our immediate family members to be lifted one at a time in the chair. Given my height and strength, I helped lift up Ari, who was the first to go. Ari, always the daredevil, did not hold onto his chair, and raised the roof while whooping and hollering, which everyone ate right up. I was next. This was not a Jewish tradition designed for men of my size, but a few more men stepped up and helped raise my chair. As I was lifted up and down, I gripped the chair for dear life, making sure I didn’t fall. I looked out onto the dance floor, and saw Elio once again standing with his father, and they had retreated further into the crowd. While Sammy was joyfully clapping along to the music and singing along, Elio was laughing as I arched my body lower, fearful that my head would hit the light fixture.

When it was time to put Vic in the chair, the boy gave me a terrified look. “It’ll be okay,” I said quietly to him, as I held the rear right leg of the chair, to support my son so he wouldn’t fall. After a few moments in the air, when he felt secure enough, he even released his hands from the tight grip he was giving to his seat, and waved to the crowd.

Once the hora was over, the guests were asked to take a seat for the appetizer and salad courses. Vic’s Bar Mitzvah theme was classical music. The dais, where all of the children and teenagers sat, was a table bookended by a balloon arch, designed to look like a staff of music. I was at the Beethoven table, with my philosophy department colleagues. Elio and Professor Perlman were at a table on the other side of the room with an assortment of academics. Had I known Elio would be here, I may not have designated this table the Bach table.

Dancing resumed after the first course, and a swarm of teenagers took to the dance floor as the DJ played “Sexyback” by Justin Timberlake. As was required as the host of the party, I made the rounds to each table, thanking guests for attending. When I got to the Bach table, aided perhaps by the Manhattans I drank during the cocktail hour and the wine from the first course, I put my arms on the table and leaned over to Elio, saying, “Having a good time?”

“Better now,” he whispered, turning to face me. “Hey, can we talk for a few minutes? Maybe in the hallway or somewhere quieter than here?”

“Later,” I said, nodding. “I need to mingle more, but I’ll grab you after dinner.” At that moment, my college roommate, Bill, and his wife, Michelle, came over to me forced me to go dance with them, as if I hadn’t already made enough of a fool of myself earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading and commenting!
> 
> I decided that Oliver’s last name is Morgenstern, named after a great ice cream shop in NYC.
> 
> I chose Vic’s name so that Oliver would have named him after Vimini. I felt that she would have had a strong impact on him, and it would have been a way for him to always remember her. Ashkenazi Jews (Jews of Eastern European descent) usually name their children after relatives who have passed away. That often takes the form in just using the first letter of their name and picking a new name.
> 
> Bar Mitzvahs are crazy, y’all. Thirteen year olds don’t know how good they have it. It’s basically an extravagant wedding with more food than you can even imagine. Most kids pick a theme for their party - I hinted in the first chapter that Ari’s theme was baseball/the Red Sox, so it made sense that Vic’s would be classical music. Usually, each table has a centerpiece related to the theme. E.g., a Star Wars Bar Mitzvah might have the Han Solo table, the Luke Skywalker Table, etc.. Most Bar/Bat Mitzvahs I went to as a kid had a long table for all of the teenagers called the dais, and that was usually the most elaborately decorated table.
> 
> I tried to explain the candle-lighting ceremony and the hora in the piece, but let me know if something confused you. Chair lifting is one of the silliest Jewish traditions, and I don’t understand what it symbolizes. I’ve heard it stems from Orthodox/religious weddings, where men and women can’t dance together (e.g., Fiddler on the Roof), but when the bride and groom are raised in the air together, they are “dancing” together without dancing together. I’m not sure why this also became a Bar Mitzvah tradition if that’s the case, but so it goes. While at a wedding, only the bride and groom are lifted, at the Bar/Bat Mitzvah, usually the kid and all of their siblings/parents get lifted.
> 
> I’m thinking about making a playlist of the songs I imagine are being played at Vic’s Bar Mitzvah (basically, a 2006 party list). Would people be interested if I posted a link to a playlist? Not going to lie, I’ve definitely been listening to a lot of music of the era while I’ve been writing.


	4. Ari's Bad Influence

_**POV: Ari, September 2, 2006** _

After the main meal, the DJ started to play “Livin’ on a Prayer,” by Bon Jovi, and some other old people music. The DJ actually called them “throwback jamz for the parents.” He didn’t actually include the “Z”, but I knew it was supposed to be there. Most of Vic’s friends were running around, dancing or taking pictures, but Vic was sitting alone, flicking at a green bean with his fork. I decided I should probably be a good brother and see what was bothering him.

“This sucks,” he said miserably. “I don’t think there’s a single person here who hasn’t told me how sorry they are that mom couldn’t be here. How do they think we feel?”

“We knew it was going to be tough, but if one more great aunt or cousin tells me how much they miss her, I might just walk away from them and leave the conversation” I said, resting my hand on my brother’s shoulder.

“The grief counselor told me I should think of happy memories, and know how proud she would have been. It’s hard to not be sad today, though.”

I suddenly had a brilliant idea. At my friend Zack’s sister’s Bat Mitzvah a few months ago, the caterers had accidentally left bottles of wine at the older teenagers’ table, and we all got drunk, which infinitely improved the lame party. “Vic, do you want to get out of here for a little while? I think I know something that will make this party more bearable.”

Vic raised his eyebrow, but he always went along with my harebrained schemes. What else are little brothers for? The dude worshiped me.

I took him out into the hallway and we rehearsed our plan. He’d go over to the bar and distract the bartender - anyone will do anything for the Bar Mitzvah boy! While he has the bartender turned around, I would swipe a bottle from the bar, and we’d drink some of it outside. Vic had only ever had sips of wine at Passover or Shabbat dinners, but this seemed like as good an opportunity as any to let him try something harder.

The plan went swimmingly - I was able to quickly grab a full bottle of vodka from the bar, and hid it in my jacket. I beckoned Vic to the door, and we quickly ran to the catering hall’s bridal suite, where we were keeping our things. We closed the door and sat on the couch, and I opened the bottle to take a swig.

I handed the bottle to Vic, who reluctantly took a sip, and nearly did a spit take. “Is this what alcohol tastes like? This is gross, and it burns! Why do people drink?”

“It grows on you. Take another sip - it tastes better after each one.” I took another big gulp of the vodka. “Wouldn’t mom be so proud of us, spending time together at your Bar Mitzvah, and bonding?”

Vic chuckled and took the bottle from me, and started to chug. “Whoa, slow down there, you need to take it easy,” I said, “We just wanted to take the edge off, not get smashed. Pace yourself, little bro!”

“I hate how everyone is just taking pity on me today. This is supposed to be my party, but it’s not very fun. Maybe this will make it fun.”

“At least we have each other, Dad’s been completely miserable since mom died. He’s seemed particularly off today.”

As I took the bottle and took one more sip, I heard the doorknob of the bridal suite turn, and whispered, “Shit! What should we do?” I heard my father’s voice outside the door, and decided that hiding would be our best option. Dad knew that I occasionally drank, but I thought he’d be furious about us getting drunk during Vic’s Bar Mitzvah. I grabbed Vic’s hand, and we opened the closet door, closing it quickly and ducking inside.

“Do you think it’s okay if we talk in here for a few minutes? It’s too loud in there” said a second voice. We reconfigured ourselves so we could both see out the slats of the closet door. I wasn’t sure who this man was. He was tall and thin, and had a thick head of curly brown hair, not unlike the mop on Vic’s head.

I looked at Vic, and he whispered, “That’s Professor Perlman’s son!”

“Sure, but we have to make it quick, I can’t spend too long out of the party room,” Dad said.

“Oliver… I… I was so sorry to hear about your wife - my dad told me what happened after you called him. Did you get the food I sent?” Professor Perlman’s son asked. I rolled my eyes at Vic. Yet another person who wanted to take pity on my family, but this guy had the gaul to try to do it one-on-one.

“Yes, we devoured the care package from Zabar’s during the shiva. I think a war nearly broke out over who got to eat the last black and white cookie.” I remembered that package, it was one of the best sympathy food baskets we received. I won that battle for the last cookie.

“I wish I could have been there for you, but it didn’t feel like the right time to see you again,” Perlman said, breathing deeply. “I don’t ever want to see you in pain.. th-this must be so difficult for you.”

Dad sighed, but not in his “I’m annoyed with you,” sort of way, but in his sad and reflective way. “I’m not going to lie, I was trying to avoid you once I saw you this morning. Everything came rushing back when I noticed you sitting there, and I lost my train of thought during my speech.”

“I could tell. Also, it was nice of my dad to conveniently shove me next to you during the hora. It was very subtle of him.”

“It was nice holding your hand again, though, no matter how ephemeral it was,” Dad said. What is he talking about?

I watched through the slats as Perlman took my dad’s hand, squeezing it tightly. They held hands for another few moments, fingers interlaced, not letting go. I looked at Vic and we both shrugged. I had NO idea what was going on right now. Who was this guy?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your kudos and comments! I appreciate everyone who’s been reading along, and I hope you’re enjoying.
> 
> I hope you all don’t think Ari is TOO bad of an influence on Vic! The sweet boy needs some corruption, after all. Also, I don't really think that Bon Jovi is old people music, but Ari would.
> 
> I think you guys will REALLY like the next chapter, since things will start to heat up, so stay tuned!
> 
> Quick note that I'm going to be away on a work trip for a few days. I have a few chapters written (and the whole story outlined), so if I can figure out how to schedule some posts for future dates, I'll do that. Otherwise, I'll resume posting next week!


	5. Eighteen Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Vic's Bar Mitzvah winds down, things are finally starting to heat up!

_**POV: Oliver, September 2, 2006** _

I held Elio’s hand for a little while longer, letting his touch linger. Before I had realized what I was doing, I noticed that we were sitting closer to each other on the couch than when we had started. We were two magnets, drawn together by undying mutual attraction.

“Deb’s death was such a shock. She was such a good mother, and the boys and I miss her terribly.”

“I should have reached out, but I didn’t know how to do so without coming across as opportunistic…” Elio said, squeezing my hand again. “I thought if I called you, or came to visit, it would look like I was trying to make a move, and I didn’t want that... I haven’t stopped caring about you.”

“Elio…” I said, pausing for a while, “I still think about you every day. Especially after you stopped by my lecture a few years ago.” I took a deep breath. “I think if you’d been able to get one more drink in me that evening, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from going to your hotel room with you,” I said, watching Elio turn slightly pink.

“I think if you had one more drink, I wouldn’t have let you come up with me. I didn’t want to take advantage of you, I just wanted to see you again.”

“I was glad I got to see you again. I just… I couldn’t cheat on my wife. With you especially. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of you.”

Elio nodded, without saying a word. I think he understood.

“Whenever I’m feeling particularly down, I think about our last night in Rome.” Particularly the way we kissed without abandon on the streets - I’ve never felt so free. “The only thing I regret about that summer is that we didn’t have enough time,” I said, resting my free hand on Elio’s thigh.

“Hey,” he said, smirking, “we would have had a few more weeks if you hadn’t been so stubborn and disciplined. But I don’t regret any of it, not at all. That last night, when you pressed me against the wall and kissed me, that is still my happiest memory. Not just of us, but of my whole life.”

“That can’t possibly be true! You have such an exciting and successful life, or so I hear from Sammy!” Or so I read on the internet. I’ve been keeping tabs on him since we parted. Elio took his other hand and placed it above mine on his leg.

“I mean, I’m happy, but I wish there was more of you in my life. I’m selfish, aren’t I.”

“No, I’ve wanted the same, but… I think if we had seen more of each other, we would have both been in even more pain than we were when I came back that winter.”

“Were you happy? I mean, obviously you aren’t happy right now, losing your wife is terrible. This was a stupid question for me to ask. But, do you… do you wish things had turned out differently?”

I shook my head. “It was the toughest decision I’ve ever had to make. I regret hurting you - I was in pain, too, but I don’t regret the decision.” Elio started to shift his body away from me. “That’s not what I mean, you goose. It’s just… if I hadn’t left, and if I hadn’t married Deb, I would have never had my sons, and they are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Elio frowned, but nodded in understanding. “The way your boys look at you, I wish I had that kind of love in my life. You must be an amazing father.”

“I saw the way you interacted with Vic earlier, you’re not so bad with kids yourself. He’s quite shy, but he seemed to really take to you.”

“He seems like a great kid. Both of your sons do.”

“I got really lucky with my boys. Things have been so hard for them lately, and they’ve handled grief better than I could have imagined.” I lifted my hand from his thigh and freed my hand from his grip, placing my hands on Elio’s face, running my thumbs along his cheekbones, taking in the changes in his face. He was older, more mature and distinguished looking, but he was still the same Elio I remembered.

After a few moments of silence, I said, “I’m really happy you shaved. I think you look better without the beard. You were handsome either way, but I like this more.”

Elio moved closer to me again, resting his head against the crook of my neck. He still smelled the same, and it was a sensory overload. “After Deb died, I wondered what would happen if I saw you again, if I would be able to hold back… if I could be good...” I said.

I gently kissed his forehead, and he let out the softest noise, almost a purr. It was the same contented noise he would make when we were together, and it still drove me crazy. Elio then tilted his head up toward me, looking me deeply in the eyes, saying nothing, when I leaned in and kissed him. First, we kissed softly and slowly, letting our lips and tongues get reacquainted. Before I knew it, Elio wrapped his arms around my middle underneath my suit jacket, pulling me in as tightly as possible, kissing me hungrily. I ran my fingers through his curls, digging my fingernails into his scalp. I moaned slightly into his mouth when he rested his hand over the zipper of my suit trousers, which had almost immediately tented. It was as if no time had passed since we were last together, and we instinctively remembered our old rhythms.

But time HAD passed. I’d spent the past eighteen and change years dreaming of kissing these soft, supple lips, since I had last kissed him that winter with that sad, conciliatory parting kiss. What a pathetic last kiss. Eighteen is a lucky number in Judaism, but not for me. At eighteen years old, my parents told me I’d have to pay my own way through college if I didn’t want to become a physician or a lawyer. I’d been married for eighteen years, and my wife died in an accident. In Hebrew, the word “chai” means life, and in Jewish numerology, the letters in the word chai add up to 18, thus its status as a lucky number. My wife had lost her life. It had been a lifetime since I’d last kissed Elio. Life is cruel.

I pulled away from Elio, slowly moving his hand away from my crotch, and he smiled at me. “We can’t do this… not today.”

“What?” Elio said, clearly hurt and disappointed, trying to regain his breath. Once he got started, it was very difficult for him to stop.

“It’s my son’s Bar Mitzvah, I need to get back out there…” I took another deep breath, reorienting myself. “My wife died SEVEN MONTHS AGO. I can’t do this yet, especially not with you. I can’t get hurt any more right now, and I can’t hurt you again.”

Elio nodded at me, slightly downtrodden. “I shouldn’t have kissed you now. That wasn’t my intention for coming here, but I got swept up in the moment… I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you. You need more time to heal.”

I nodded in agreement. “I’m… I’m not saying no, to this,” I said, pointing at him and then at myself. “Just… not yet. I need time. I can’t do anything until the boys are ready for me to date again, I can’t hurt them.” If anything were to happen with him in the future, I’d need to tell them about Elio, or at least that before their mother, I had also dated men. How does one tell their teenage children something like that? I kissed his hairline once more. “We should get back out to the party. I need to make another lap around the room and show my face again.”

I stood up, and offered him my hand, helping him off the couch. Elio adjusted his erection and I willed mine away. I had often thought about what it would be like to kiss Elio again, if it would be as intoxicating, and now that I knew, it was going to be very difficult to keep myself from kissing him again. Fortunately, we lived far enough apart, so the mileage would hopefully, but doubtfully, quell some of the desire. At least, the distance would give me some time to think.  But not right now - my presence was required back in the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting, but I should be back to a more regular posting schedule now. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! It’s still going to be a slow burn and a long way, but I hope it’s worth the wait.
> 
> Don’t forget that Ari and Vic are hiding in the closet in that room, so they witnessed the entire thing…
> 
> As always, you guys are the best, and thanks for the comments and kudos!


	6. Out of the Closet

_**POV: Ari, September 2, 2006** _

We waited a moment after Dad and Elio left the bridal suite, and then let ourselves out of the closet. Though, not the same way my dad had unknowingly come out of the closet to us. I chuckled at the irony. Vic collapsed on the couch and asked, “Did you know about that?”

“That our dad is gay? Nope. Never had any clue.” I opened the vodka bottle and took another swig. I think I deserved it after watching my dad make out with someone. A man, no less. Old people should not be allowed to kiss like that. Gross.

“He’s not necessarily GAY, Ari. He was married to mom for almost two decades, and they loved each other. Maybe he’s bi.” Vic said, taking the bottle from me and drinking even more. He was slurring his words slightly, but I didn’t stop him from drinking more.

“It’s just… bizarre, right? I don’t care that he has a history with a dude, but it’s weird because we’ve only ever seen him with mom. And no one wants to see their dad making out with anyone.”

“I like Elio,” he said, saying the name very slowly. “Eh Lee Oh. He has a fun name. He teaches music at Princeton, maybe if he marries dad you’ll have a better shot of getting in there.”

I smacked Vic in the arm, laughing. “Hey, I’m smart enough to get in on my own, thank you very much. And I think you’re getting ahead of yourself here.”

Vic handed me the bottle of vodka, and I closed it, putting the bottle back inside my suit jacket.

“We should probably get back into the party, people will notice that you’re missing. It’s your party, after all.”

“OK!” Vic said, surprisingly jolly. We could hear the music from the party room, and “Hips Don’t Lie” started to play. “Oh, I love this song!” We snuck back into the party room, and as Vic headed to the floor to dance with his friends, I surreptitiously placed the bottle on an unattended caterer’s cart.

This was so much to process. My dad had an affair with Professor Perlman’s son when he stayed with them a few years before I was born. My dad likes men. I have a couple of gay friends, and a few of my classmates have two moms or two dads - I’m straight, but I understand that sexuality is a spectrum and whatever. I think I’d have this same feeling if I watched Dad make out with an ex-girlfriend. I used to have the same icky feeling when I saw him kissing Mom. I looked around the room and saw Dad sitting at a table with some of his Harvard friends, while Elio was being dragged to the dance floor by my two nosy Great Aunts - he was literally being dragged, Aunt Doris was grabbing him by his collar. On the other side of the dance floor, Vic was jumping up and down and shaking his shoulders, singing along to the song. I made a mental note that my brother is actually fun when he’s had alcohol.

I decided that I should find out a little bit more about what happened with my dad and Elio. I went over to Professor Perlman’s table, where he was sitting alone, sipping some wine. I sat down next to him and said, “Pro! It’s good to see you! It’s been a few years!”

“Ari!” He said, leaning over to hug me. “You must have grown at least a foot since the last time I saw you! You look more and more like your father each time I see you.”

“That’s a good thing, I hope. At least I got his hair - Vic got stuck with Mom’s Jew-fro,” I said, laughing. “Looks like my aunts managed to stick their claws in your son - they’re never going to leave him alone until he’s promised to marry their rabbi’s niece’s best friend from Brandeis with a gimpy leg, but she’s still very pretty, they swear.”

Professor Perlman chuckled. “Every family’s got one or two of those matchmakers. I’m sure they mean well.”

“So… my dad and your son, they were friendly the summer my dad spent with you?” I asked, trying to prod for information. I didn’t even know if the Professor would know, but it was worth trying.

“Oh, they spent a lot of time together that summer. Elio was quite fond of him,” Dr. Perlman said.

“How come they don’t really talk now? My dad still talks to you, but I’ve never met Elio before today.” Alcohol, the universal truth serum. Helped me not beat around the bush.

The professor stopped for a moment, thinking about what to say. He definitely knew something. “I think… their lives just went in two different directions. Some friends come and go, but are very special in the moment. Your parents had you and your brother, Elio was at university, and they were just in very different places in their lives. Sometimes it’s difficult to… maintain a friendship.”

Sure. That’s why. I’d need to do more prying later, the professor spoke mostly in code, and I didn’t think I’d get much more out of him. I wasn’t drunk, but I’d had enough alcohol that made processing everything he said slightly more difficult.

“Where was he when we visited when I was a kid? Had he already moved to the US?”

“How long ago was your visit? Ten years ago? He must have still been at Yale, pursuing his doctorate. He spends his summers at the villa again, though. It delights his mother to have him back, even briefly.”

“Does your housekeeper… Mafalda? Was that her name? Does she still make that kickass gelato? I was 5 when we visited, and I can still taste it.”

“She does. You’ll have to come back to Italy one day and have some more. The villa is always open for visitors, and our home is your home. Annella would love to see you again. When you’re in college or graduate school, you should apply to work with me for the summer. I think we can argue that your application comes highly recommended by a former student…”

“That sounds great, Pro! I don’t know what I want to study in college yet, but a summer in Italy sounds awesome.” I stood up a little too quickly, and felt a bit dizzy. Stupid vodka. Should have grabbed something a little less potent. “It was great catching up, but I should go join my brother on the dance floor - he is embarrassing himself, and I think he needs some rescuing from his cooler, older brother,” I said, watching Vic attempting to breakdance as his friends cheered for him. He was definitely going to regret this tomorrow.

“It was lovely to see you again, Ari,” Professor Perlman said. “You’ve grown into a wonderful young man. Take care of yourself, and watch out for your brother and your father. You could all use each other right now.”

Back on the dance floor, Vic’s friends were singing along to “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley. When I went over to Vic, he was stumbling around. “Ari! Did you see how good of a dancer I am? Did you see when I was spinning on the floor?”

“I did, Vic. You were something else,” I said with a chuckle. “How are you feeling, buddy?”

“I’m good. Hey, I have an idea! We should go ask for a slow song so Dad can dance with Elio. They’re in LO-OVE.”

“No, we definitely don’t want to do that. Just forget about what we saw for now. We’ll talk about that later, without Dad.”

Vic leaned his head on my arm. “Ari, I feel dizzy.”

“Come on, buddy, I’ll take you to sit down. Let’s get you some water,” I said, grabbing his shoulder and helping him to his table. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him drink so much vodka. How was he so drunk? I was functionally tipsy. “Stay here, I’m going to go get you some water and some challah or something. You need to be better before the dessert comes out.”

I ran off, trying to find the necessary accommodations so my brother wouldn’t be a drunk mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Perlman, an enigma as always. I hope you’re all enjoying this journey so far! We’ll be leaving the Bar Mitzvah very soon, so I apologize for lingering at the party for so long, but I think it’ll help set the stage for the rest of the story.
> 
> As always, thank you for your comments and kudos! I love hearing what you all have to think!


	7. Wants and Needs

_**POV: Oliver, September 2, 2006** _

Elio was here, at the Bar Mitzvah. I kissed Elio moments ago. Elio. Elio, Elio, Elio. I wanted to shout his name from the rooftop. I wanted to take him outside, push him violently against the wall, and kiss him senseless. I wanted to take him home with me, tear off that suit, and plough into him, making him moan in ecstasy. I wanted to touch and kiss every inch of that long, lithe body. I wanted to hold him tightly and never let him go. I wanted to come on his chest, claiming him as mine. I wanted to suck on his neck, leaving a mark for all the world to see that I had been there, that this neck, this body, all of Elio belonged to me and only me. I wanted all of him inside of me, that sweet mix of pleasure and pain I’ve only ever experienced with him. I wanted him to shout my name. I wanted him to shout his own name. I wanted him.

I had to be good. I wanted him badly, I needed his touch again, but this was neither the time nor place. Deb died so recently, and I wasn’t in an emotional place to be resuming anything with Elio, no matter what my body was telling me I wanted or needed. If I was ever going to find my way back to him, it had to be when we were both in the right mental and physical place for it.

I walked back into the main reception hall, Elio a few paces behind me. When I woke up this morning, if you had told me a Morgenstern was going to have a secret make out session at the Bar Mitzvah, I would have put all of my money on Ari. In fact, where was Ari? I hadn’t seen him for half of the party.

Before I could look for my son, I was grabbed by a few Harvard buddies, who wanted to take some pictures and reminisce about the good old days. We talked for a little while, and I looked around the room to make sure my sons were okay. Vic was on the dance floor, spinning on his head. That was new and surprising, but maybe he was just making the most of his Bar Mitzvah. Ari was sitting with Sammy. So he wasn’t out in the parking lot getting high with his friends, as I had presumed.

After speaking with my friends, I went over to the bar, and Sammy came over to me. “This has been a lovely party. I just spoke with your elder son, and he’s a wonderful kid.”

“He’s a handful sometimes, but he’s great.”

Sammy put his hand on my back. “You’ve done a wonderful job with your boys. I wouldn’t have expected any less.”

“Thanks, Pro, it means a lot, especially coming from you.”

“Elio was reluctant to come today, he didn’t want to… stir the pot much. You had such a wonderful friendship, and I do wish you had kept in better touch over the years, but under the circumstances... I understood. I hope it wasn’t inappropriate to bring him today, and I hope you were able to briefly reconnect.”

“We spoke earlier, I think we’ve... re-established communication. I’ll be in touch with him soon - Ari will likely want to tour Princeton in the spring. It’s one of his top choices for college.”

“Wonderful! I’m sure Elio would love to take him around! Glad to see Ari takes after you in the academic regard,” Sammy said, grinning widely. “I hope he’ll consider being my student one summer! If he’s anything like you, I’m sure he’ll do excellent work, and we’ll all appreciate his company.”

“I think he’d enjoy that, I’ll have to suggest it to him when he’s in college.” I looked around the room, trying to see where Ari was, when I noticed him darting across the room, grabbing a waiter and whispering to him. Vic was sitting at a table, cheeks bright red, resting his head on his arm. What were the boys up to? “Sorry, Pro. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go check on my sons.”

I walked over to Vic, sat down next to him, and put my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay, Vic?”

“I… I was dancing a lot and spinning on my head and jumping up and down a lot and now the room is twirling and my head is heavy and there’s three of you and I think I might throw up,” he said, slurring his words a bit.

“Vic… have you been drinking?”

“Noooooooo! I had water and a ginger ale and a Shirley Temple,” he said, unconvincingly.

“Where did you… stupid question. Of course it was Ari. Come with me, I’ll help you.”

I helped Vic up from his chair, and quietly pulled him out of the room and into the bathroom. “Vic, I know this sounds disgusting, but you’re going to want to throw up right now. You’ll thank me later.” The boys were going to pay for this later, but right now, it was Vic’s Bar Mitzvah, and I wanted him to enjoy the rest of it. In all likelihood, the alcohol was Ari’s idea, but he was often able to drag his more innocent brother into his schemes.

“Ewww, no, I don’t WANT to throw up. I just feel like I might throw up.”

We went into the biggest stall, and I knelt on the floor next to Vic, rubbing his back. “C’mere, I’ll help you. Can you throw up on your own, or do you need me to stick my finger down your throat?”

“Gross, Dad! I’ll…” before he could finish his sentence, he was already starting. I kept rubbing his back, encouraging him to get everything out, helping aim his head into the bowl.

After Vic had finished, I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped off his face. “Let’s get you back into the party room and get you some water and some bread.”

“That’s what Ari was about to do before you found me! He’s such a good brother, helping me like that. He knew what you were going to say!”

As we went to the sink to wash our hands and Vic’s face, Elio was at the sink next to us. He must have witnessed the whole thing. He smiled at me, making eye contact. I know we were both thinking about Rome.

“Are you feeling better now, Vic?” I asked, straightening his tie.

“I feel fine! Now all of the vodka is gone and I can go eat some cake and cookies and dessert! I can go by myself. You can talk to Ehhhh-leeeee-oh.”

“Go back and enjoy your party, we’ll talk about the vodka thing tomorrow. Just make sure to drink some water when you get back in there,” I said, and before he could respond, Vic had run out of the bathroom and back to the room. How the boy rebounded so fast, I would never know.

I looked at the floor of the bathroom stalls and over to the urinals, and made sure no one else was in the bathroom. “This really brings us back, doesn’t it?” I said to Elio, smirking. “At least Vic remembers to chew his peas.”

“Hey!” Elio laughed, jabbing me lightly in the chest. “Boys will be boys.”

“Sorry for running out on you earlier. I was just… overwhelmed. I still need some time, to think, about everything.”

“I know,” he said, taking my hand in his. “When you’re ready, give me a call. Give me your cell phone, I’ll give you my number,” he said, handing me his phone. “Put your number in there.”

We exchanged phones and typed our cell phone numbers in. Instead of typing my own name, I saved my name in his phone as Elio. “I should go back inside and make sure Vic is still okay,” I said, as we exchanged phones again. I pulled him in for a long, tight hug. “I’ll be in touch this time, I promise.”

As I walked away, I scrolled through my contacts, and noticed that there was no new entry for Elio. I scrolled down the alphabetical list, and noticed he had saved his number as Oliver. I sent a quick text message to the number to make sure he knew I saw it. “Later!” I wrote, and clicked send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that this is the last chapter that takes place at the Bar Mitzvah. The story is going to move quicker after this.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support!


	8. Digging

_**POV: Ari, September 9, 2006 (one week after the Bar Mitzvah)** _   
  
I laid on Vic’s bed, bouncing a Nerf ball against the wall, while Vic sat at his desk, scribbling furiously. “I can’t believe you’re the one who got wasted, but I’m the one who’s punished!” I said, tossing the ball harder.

“It was **my** Bar Mitzvah, and Dad realized the vodka was **your** idea. Anyway, your punishment was just to help me seal and address my thank-you cards. It’s not like you’re actually grounded,” Vic said, adding another note to the pile. I was taking a break - I’d already gotten several paper cuts. Also, I didn't really care that much about the punishment - Dad never really punished us, and never followed through with threats.

“Stop writing so quickly, I got a paper cut on my tongue, and it needs to go away before my date with Jessica tonight,” I said, throwing the ball at the back of Vic’s head.

“Maybe you’ll do as much kissing as Dad did at the Bar Mitzvah,” Vic said, chuckling. He grabbed the ball and threw it back at me.

I stuck my tongue out at Vic, sticking my finger down my throat and making a wretching noise. “Ewwww, gross, now that’s all I’m going to be able to think about tonight.” Vic turned the desk chair around and faced me on the bed.

" Do you think Dad ever cheated on Mom? With Elio, or someone else?” he asked me.

“No, I don’t, and Dad basically said as much to Elio,” I said, thinking about it for a minute. “Mom and Dad loved each other.” They had always seemed happy, and they were affectionate in front of us. “Do you think it’s weird that Dad has a history with a guy?”

Vic shook his head. “Not really. A little, maybe? I mean, if YOU’VE already had more than one girlfriend, who’s to say that Dad didn’t have a history before Mom? Does it really matter if it’s a guy or a girl?”

I chucked the ball hard at Vic, and he laughed as he caught it. “I guess you’re right about that. It’s just... not what I was expecting. All of the single moms at school who fawn over Dad are going to be very disappointed.”

“Mom and Dad always told us that they’d love us for who we are, whether we were gay, or straight, or something in between, or neither. They always wanted us to be loved and understood, no matter what. We should do the same for Dad. When he’s ready to tell us about it,” Vic said. I swear, my brother went straight from toddler to grandfather.

“Mom died in February… I don’t know if I’m ready for him to see anyone, female or male,” I said, frowning. “But Dad seemed so thrown off when he was talking to Professor Perlman’s son. I… I think he really likes him. I don't think he ever got over him.”

“I agree. Did you see the way Dad looked at Elio? The way they held hands? I’ve never seen Dad like that before. There was something different there,” Vic said.

“I tried to ask Professor Perlman about the summer Dad stayed with them. He implied that Dad and Elio were 'very close,' but had stopped talking after Dad and Mom were married and had us.”

“That’s what they were talking about when we were hiding. It sounds like Dad chose Mom over Elio. That must have been really hard for Dad, to make a decision like that,” Vic said, running his hand through his hair, the same way Dad does when he's deep in thought. "Mom was the best, but it sounded like Dad really wanted to be with Elio back then."

I sat for a minute, scratching my head, contemplating everything. “I just did the math… Dad married Mom a year after he spent the summer in Italy. I was born almost two years after that, so it’s not like it was a shotgun wedding or anything. I wonder why they moved so quickly? I know they dated on and off before they were married, but it seems fast to me.”

“Not sure,” Vic said. “Do you think Dad couldn’t be with Elio because of Grandpa? Dad always says that his dad was a 'prejudiced old fart' stuck in his old ways. He says he wanted to be a more open and accepting dad than his own strict father.”

“It’s possible… it was the 80’s, I think being in an open same-sex relationship was much rarer and less safe back then. Dad always takes very small, calculated risks, if he takes any at all, and everything he does is always so regimented and disciplined. Maybe it was just easier to marry a woman,” I said. “Dad and Mom always said the other was their best friend. He could have just chosen the easier path to be with his best friend rather than risk everything to be with a man.”

Vic came and sat on the edge of the bed, putting his head down on a pillow next to me. “Dad has been so depressed since Mom died. I just want to see him happy again.”

“I do, too. Do you think that… Elio would make him happy?”

“It certainly sounded that way when they were kissing,” Vic said. "They were making some really enthusiastic noises."

“STOP TALKING ABOUT THE KISS. GROSS. That is literally all I'll be able to think about on my date tonight."

“Should we tell Dad what we saw?” Vic asked, sitting back up again.

“Definitely not. We are never telling him that. We do need to do more digging about Elio, though,” I said. “Hey, gimme your laptop. Let’s google him and see what we can find.”

Vic brought his laptop to the bed, and we opened a browser. We immediately found his Princeton staff website, listing his contact information and the courses that he teaches. “This is so cool,” Vic said, “He teaches the advanced composition workshops, and a seminar on 19th century music!”

“Boring,” I said. “Bookmark this page, and let’s see what else we can find.”

After a few more minutes of digging in the search results, we watched a video of him playing a piano concerto at a festival in Montreal, and another video of a symphonic orchestra playing a piece he wrote. I’ll give him credit, he’s a really good musician. Vic was fascinated.

We spent at least an hour going deeper and deeper into the results. We found his Facebook account, where a few pictures were public. They were mostly pictures with other Princeton faculty, nothing revealing about his relationship history or anything scandalous.

“Ari… he is so impressive, music- and career-wise. I talked to him for a bit during the kiddush, and he was really nice. He took the time to actually talk to me, not in the way that most adults talk down to me because I’m a kid and because my mother is dead… I think Dad loved him once, and I think he would be happy with him now. It's a shame he doesn't live near Boston.”

“I think we need to get to know him better, before we decide that we want him in our lives, and see if he’s good enough for Dad,” I said. Dad had told Elio he needed more time, so we’d take that time to figure out just who he was, and if he was right for our father. If I was going to help set my father up with a man, he had to be the right person for him. "What did you talk about at the Bar Mitzvah?”

“He told me that if I was ever in New Jersey, he’d give me a composing lesson,” Vic said.

“Good. Go back to his faculty page, and get his contact information. Send him an email, and tell him you want to learn more about what it’s like to be a music professor and study music in college or something. It would come across as too obvious if I did it, but you’ve already talked about music with him, so I don’t think it would be weird.”

“OK, let’s write the email to him. How should I address it? Dr. Perlman? Professor Perlman?”

“I think you can just call him Elio.”

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@princeton.edu>   
From: Victor Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>   
Subject: Music   
Sent: Saturday, September 9, 2006   
  
Hi Elio!

This is Victor Morgenstern, Oliver Morgenstern’s son. If you don't remember me, we met at my Bar Mitzvah last week.

You told me about how you teach at Princeton, and how you compose music, and that is so cool! I was wondering if you had a link to watch or listen to the piece of yours that you said was performed in Paris last year? I'd love to hear it! 

I know I’m only 13, but Dad always tells us that it’s never too early to start preparing for college. I want to study music like you did. Do you have any advice for what I can start doing before I get to high school so I can get into the best music programs for college?

Thank you for your help, and it was great meeting you at the Bar Mitzvah!

Sincerely,

Victor Morgenstern

PS: I found your email address on the Princeton website. I’m sorry if it’s weird that I sent you this email.

* * *

To: Victor Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>   
From: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@princeton.edu>   
Subject: Re: Music   
Sent: Tuesday, September 12, 2006   
  
Victor, 

It's so nice to hear from you! I had a great time at your Bar Mitzvah, and I thank you for letting me attend in my injured mother's place. She's sorry she couldn't be there, but sends her love.

It was wonderful to meet you and to speak about music. I loved seeing how passionate you are about playing. Any school would be lucky to have a dedicated musician like yourself.

I think you're already definitely on the right track for musical performance programs. You seem to already be proficient at several instruments. You should join any musical performance groups your school has to offer, even if it's jazz or marching band. Practice is practice, even if you are just playing Sousa over and over.

The after school group you were telling me about sounds like a great opportunity to play with other talented musicians. You should practice hard and audition for first chair clarinet. Being concert master will look great on your applications.

You should probably take some music theory classes early on in high school, to make sure it's what you want and also to get some experience transcribing and composing. I can recommend a few summer programs for you in New England, but if there's anything I can do to help over the phone or computer, let me know. If you send me a recording of something you've played, I can give you some constructive criticism.

Here's a link to the Paris performance - the sound quality in the video is not the greatest, but I think you'll be able to hear most of it.

Let me know if you have any questions about anything I've mentioned, and I can try to help.

Regards,

Elio   
  


* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@princeton.edu>   
From: Victor Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>   
Subject: Re: Music   
Sent: Thursday, September 14, 2006   
  
Elio, 

Thank you for your suggestions! 

I listened to the Paris piece, and it was beautiful. I hope to one day be able to compose anything half as good as that.

I decided to audition for first chair clarinet. I think you're right about being concert master. It's a big responsibility, but it'll be a good learning experience. What piece do you think I should audition with? Maybe a Brahms clarinet sonata? Would Rhapsody in Blue be too modern of an audition piece? If I can nail that opening glissando...

If I sent you recordings of the audition piece you really wouldn't mind listening? My dad and Ari don't have enough technical expertise to really critique it. Ari plays the trombone in the band, so what would he really know?

Thank you for your help! I appreciate this so much. 

-Vic   
  


* * *

By the end of September, Vic and Elio were emailing every few days. I think Vic was so enamored with Elio's musical ability and background that he forgot that he was supposed to be learning more about Elio and Dad, to see if trying to reconnect him with Dad was worth the effort. I made him include random questions or comments to try to learn new things about him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were falling for Elio, too," I said to Vic, as we sat in his room so I could record him playing the clarinet to send to Elio.

He kicked me in the shin. "That's all dad's territory, he's too old and too male for me. I just appreciate all the help he's been giving me. You were right, though, emailing him was a good idea."

Reading over the emails, we learned a few things here and there. Elio was never married, he had a very eclectic music taste ranging from classical to punk to pop to 80s new wave, he was a cinephile, he read and recommended a lot of books, and seemed to genuinely care about helping Vic. The last one made me realize that if he could stomach helping and talking to my annoying little brother this often, he was probably a good person. He was a Princeton professor who was continually assisting a 13 year old with a junior high audition. I could see why dad cared about him.

"I think we should start getting some information out of Dad. I'll work on him, you keep talking to Elio about your nerdy music."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the wheels are in motion for the rest of the story! I can’t wait to show you all what the boys will get themselves into.
> 
> If you’re curious about the pieces Vic mentions as potential clarinet audition pieces, here’s a performance of the New York Philharmonic, as conducted by Bernstein, playing Rhapsody in Blue. That clarinet introduction is one of the most famous orchestra solos for clarinet. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cH2PH0auTUU
> 
> These are the Brahms clarinet sonatas I was thinking of: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Kp38BUjPNI and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1E77EGpgrk
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos make me so happy!


	9. Driving Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get really heated between Oliver and Elio in this one. It's a doozy, and the content of this chapter is definitely NSFW. Enjoy!

_**POV: Oliver, October 7, 2006** _

Summer was winding down, and we were entering the heights of a New England autumn. The weather was cooler and crisper, sundresses and shorts were being replaced by sweaters and boots, and leaves were slowly falling from the trees, turning a soft yellow and orange hue. As the days were getting shorter, the school year was heating up. I was teaching a larger course load this semester than usual, to make up for the reduced load the university encouraged me to take after Deb’s death.

A month had passed since the Bar Mitzvah, and I still couldn’t stop thinking about my kiss with Elio. The first time we kissed on the berm, I had hoped the one kiss would sate the desire and curiosity Elio had been feeling, but I had underestimated our connection. The kiss last month had reawakened something that had laid dormant for the past two decades. Yet, just as how I knew we couldn’t be together when I was 24, we still couldn’t be together now. Even though society would be more accepting of two men together, even though my father was no longer alive to disown me, even though I was a single widower, there were still too many roadblocks in our way.

For starters, I still wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of dating again to the boys. When was it appropriate to start seeing someone after your spouse passed away? It still felt too soon, and I didn’t want to disrespect Deb’s memory. Second, I wasn’t sure how Ari and Vic would react to knowing about my past with men. Third, Elio lives almost 300 miles away from me, and we both have tenure track positions at our universities. Fate never allowed us to be in the same place at the same time.

* * *

 

After Deb’s death, certain events and milestones in our lives were forgotten about or put on hold. Ari turned 16 a month after the funeral, and we forgot to take him to get his learner’s permit. Deb was more patient with the boys, and she was supposed to teach Ari how to drive after his birthday, so after she died, in a car accident no less, Ari and I avoided the subject of learning how to drive. However, last week, I took him to the DMV and we got him a learner’s permit, so in addition to driver’s ed at school, I was going to start taking him out on the road on the weekends.

Today was our first driving lesson. Ari was nervous behind the wheel, but after a while, he almost got the hang of it. He made his left turns a little too wide, and he hit the breaks too quickly, but with practice, he’d get better.

We drove in circles around our quiet neighborhood, turning down random streets and cul-de-sacs. When Ari swerved to avoid a squirrel, I gripped the passenger side door and let out a string of swears. “I think Mom would have just calmly told me to hit the squirrel,” Ari said, once he regained his bearings.

I laughed, and said, “I think she would have been a better driving teacher. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me.”

“It’s ok,” Ari said, checking the side mirror before turning. “Mom would have been proud of you for trying to restrain yourself. I know that you want to take the wheel and do the driving yourself right now.”

Ari wasn’t wrong. I liked being in control of myself and a situation, and letting my 16 year old son drive my car was making me nervous. “You’re doing great. Pull over to the right here, and we’ll try parallel parking.”

The car tapped the curb, and Ari looked at me apologetically, but there was no damage to the car. I explained the maneuvers he’d need to make to perfectly parallel park, and after a few attempts, he was almost able to do it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever figure out how to do this,” Ari said, frustrated. “Who needs parallel parking, anyway?”

“Don’t worry, I failed my road test twice, so you have two shots to beat me. You’ll get the hang of this.”

“When I go away to college, I won’t need a car, anyway. Columbia, Penn, Princeton, no one has a car at those schools.”

“Plenty of kids have cars in college. Also, don’t you want to be able to drive yourself on dates next year? You don’t want to always be driven and picked up by your father,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Speaking of Princeton,” Ari said, as he pulled out of the spot and started to drive again, “Professor Perlman said that his son teaches there. Maybe we should ask him how many students actually have cars there.”

“I don’t think asking Elio about the car situation in Princeton will help you get out of your driving lessons,” I said.

“Elio seemed nice - Vic couldn’t shut up about him after the Bar Mitzvah after they spoke about musical performances. Have you ever heard him play?”

I bit my lip, thinking about Elio sitting at the piano in the villa. “I have - he would play the piano all the time during the summer I worked with the Perlmans. He was just as good as your brother, same fervor and emotion while he played.”

“Were you friends when you stayed with them? How come you didn’t invite him to the Bar Mitzvah, but you invited Professor and Mrs. Perlman?” Ari asked, continuing to drive.

I thought about how to answer this. I wanted to be honest, but I wasn’t ready to tell him the whole truth. “We spent a lot of time together that summer. He was younger than me, and we grew apart when I married your mother and he was in college. Professor Perlman has always been a great supporter of my work and a great colleague, so we’ve kept in touch over the years.”

“Losing touch with a friend is sad,” Ari said. “Have you thought about reconnecting with him now that you’re older and both professors?”

“It’s not always that easy to fall back into a friendship,” I said. “But he does do some great work at Princeton.”

“You should tell him that I want to apply there, maybe he can give me some tips for my application to make it stand out,” Ari said, hitting the breaks at a stop sign. If it weren’t for my seatbelt, I would have flown out of the front windshield.

“We’ve got a year until you send your applications, don’t worry about that yet,” I said, trying to change the subject away from Elio.

We drove around the neighborhood for a few more minutes, until I asked Ari to pull over so I could drive us home. This first lesson had been both physically and mentally exhausting.

* * *

 

Later that night, after the boys went into their bedrooms, I was drinking a whiskey while I watched television in the living room, and decided to text Elio.

**_Hey, how have you been?_ **

_ Oliver! Hi! I’m good! How are you? _

_**I’m okay. Two whiskeys into the night.** _

_ Just a whiskey? No fancy cocktails you learned while bartending? _

_**Nah, just a whiskey on the rocks.** _

_**Easier, and gets the job done.** _

_ I agree with you there, but the Italian in me has been drinking wine tonight, instead. _

_**My son was asking me about you today.** _

_ What did he ask? Did you know he’s been emailing me? _

**_Is he trying to get himself into Princeton?_ **

**_Ari loves trying to pull whatever strings he can._ **

_ Oh, no, Vic has been emailing me, not Ari. _

**_Vic? He didn’t tell me that._ **

_ Yeah, he’s been asking for advice about music. _

_ He wanted my professional help with his orchestra audition. _

_ We’ve been talking about what he needs to do before high school to prepare for applying to music programs in college. _

**_I’m not surprised he took that initiative._ **

**_You are the best musician I know, after all._ **

_ You flatter me. Your son is actually great. _

_ He sent me his audition tape for clarinet first chair. _

**_I haven’t even heard that yet, he usually asks me to listen._ **

_ He’s got great potential. He’s going to do great things in music. _

_ I told him that he should start doing advanced summer music programs. _

_ I said I’d recommend a few. _

**_That would be really helpful, thank you!_ **

**_I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he was talking to you._ **

_ I mean… _

_ He doesn’t know our history, does he? _

**_No, I haven’t told the boys about you. About us._ **

_ I’d be ashamed of me, too :) _

**_Goose!_ **

**_I’m not ashamed._ **

**_Our summer, that was the best summer of my life._ **

_ Mine, too. _

**_I told Deb about you, when I got back to New York at the end of that summer._ **

_ You did? _

_ What did you tell her? _

**_Everything._ **

_ So she knew about the way you ran your fingers through my hair and dug your nails into my scalp each time I sucked your dick? _

_ Or about the night we lost power during the big storm and we fucked nonstop in complete darkness until morning? _

**_Elio…_ **

**_That’s just between us._ **

**_She knew your name, gender, age._ **

**_How I felt about you._ **

**_That I’d never been that intimate with anyone else in my life, even her._ **

_ You spoiled me for other people, Oliver. _

**_What do you mean?_ **

_ I’ve been with a lot of women, and a lot of men. _

_ None of them were you. _

_ You were the best, most intimate sex I've ever had in my life. _

_ It wasn't even just the sex, it was everything about us. _

_ It's just sometimes difficult that I started at the top, with the best. It's been downhill from there. _

**_I miss you._ **

_ Fuck. _

_ I miss you, too. _

_ I wish I was in MA right now. _

**_I wish you were, too._ **

**_I haven’t stopped thinking about our kiss._ **

_ I’ll book the next train, I can be there in less than six hours. _

_ Or, I can wait until I’m sober enough to drive, and can make it in five. _

**_Elio, you know you can’t do that. We can’t._ **

**_Not now. Not yet._ **

_ I know. I realize how selfish I’m being. _

_ You’re in mourning, I’m a terrible person. _

**_You’re not terrible. You’re human._ **

**_You’re perfect._ **

_ But, if you were ready, the things I would do to you. _

_ For you. _

_ With you. _

**_Maybe it’s the three whiskeys I’ve had tonight, but enlighten me._ **

_ Three? You were two deep a little while ago. _

_ Do you really want me to tell you? _

**_Tell me. Please._ **

_ First, I need to know. What are you wearing right now? _

**_A ratty t-shirt and boxers, what I usually wear to bed. Why? What are you wearing?_ **

_ A Yale t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Not terribly sexy, I know. _

**_I’d beg to differ._ **

_ OK, so. First, I would kiss your neck, and nibble on your earlobes. _

**_Mmm. I liked when you used to do that._ **

_ I’d sit you on a bed, and straddle you while we kiss. _

_ I’d rip that ratty t-shirt off, because I can’t wait to get to your skin. _

_ I want to kiss every inch of your arms, your chest, your thighs. _

**_Fuck, I’m hard right now._ **

_ Me too. _

_ I would tease you through your boxers, gently grazing you through the fabric. _

_ As your cock pokes through the hole, I would tease you mercilessly, not let you feel my touch yet. _

_ I wouldn’t take off your boxers until you begged me to. _

**_Oh god, I would beg you._ **

_ I’d take you into my mouth, as much of your length as I could. _

_ Your cock was always too big to fully take in. _

**_I would pull your hair while you did that, plead with you not to stop._ **

_ Good, because I’m not stopping until you come. _

_ But that wouldn’t be for a while, because I want to keep you on the edge for a long time. _

_ While I lick your head, I would push one finger inside of you, then a second, then a third. _

_ In case you’ve forgotten, I give a very, very skillful blowjob. _

**_I could never forget that._ **

_ I learned from you. You taught me well. _

**_After I come, what would you want me to do? Suck you off, too?_ **

_ No. _

_ I want to fuck your brains out. I want to come inside of you. _

**_I probably shouldn’t tell you that I’m close right now._ **

_ Are you touching yourself? _

**_..._ **

**_How could I not?_ **

_ I am touching myself, too. _

_ I would spread your legs and slowly, very slowly, enter you. _

_ I want to make you scream. _

_ You would be hard again in no time. _

_ I would very slowly, very deliberately stroke you, while I thrust inside of you. _

**_Sorry, I needed to get a towel._ **

**_I haven’t come that intensely in years._ **

_ Fuck, I want you so badly, Oliver. _

**_Shit, it’s really late._ **

**_I have to be up early to take Ari to SAT prep class._ **

_ I wish I was there so you could hold me while we fall asleep. _

**_I’m not sure I’m going to be getting much sleep tonight._ **

_ I think you know that there’s something I need to finish doing before I go to sleep. _

**_I’m sorry I’m not there to assist with that._ **

**_Good night, Elio._ **

_ Buona notte e signi d’oro. _

 

* * *

 

I woke up the next morning to my alarm clock, hungover and insatiably horny. I looked at my phone, and remembered my conversation with Elio. I should not have done that, let the conversation progress as it did. Elio desired me just as much as I wanted him, but this was too much, too soon. I was going to need to pull the breaks somewhat. Maybe I would just not talk to him for a little bit, let things cool down. I couldn't get this involved with someone, with Elio especially, this quickly. I needed more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind words and continued support! It means so much to me.
> 
> I hope you all liked this one :) There's more of this to come! If anyone can suggest a better format for displaying a text conversation (without using graphics), let me know, I'm more than willing to change the format if there's an easier way to display/read it.


	10. Gaming the System

_**POV: Ari, October 11, 2006** _

My junior year of high school had been off to a promising start. I began the year as the number two ranked student in my grade - only Samantha Rothstein was ahead of me, by a fraction of a point, but my weighted average would be higher after this semester because I was taking more AP classes. After four games, our soccer team was undefeated, and I had scored at least one goal per game. I had made captain of the debate team, and was also doing well with model UN. Auditions for _Anything Goes_ were next week, and I was basically a lock for Billy Crocker. To top it all off, I had gone on no fewer than two dates per week since school started. Jessica Cohen and I had broken up, but the next week, Bianca Diaz and I hooked up at Ryan Thompson's birthday party and have been seeing each other since then. Yeah, you could say I was doing well in all areas of my life.

This morning, I was called into the guidance counselor's office to discuss my college plans and what I needed to do in order to achieve them. I was happy to skip AP Euro for the day, and waltzed into Mrs. Chen's office long after the bell.

"Mr. Morgenstern, have a seat," she said, putting on her reading glasses and pulling out a fairly large folder with my name on it.

"How's it going, Mrs. Chen?" I asked, leaning back into the cushioned chair, putting my feet on her desk, making myself comfortable. This meeting was going to be a piece of cake.

"Please put your feet down, Mr. Morgenstern," she said, always no nonsense. "How would you say the semester has been going for you?" she asked.

"Great! I'm taking AP Euro, Bio, Lit and Psych, and I'm kicking butt at soccer. I was chosen as debate team captain last week, too," I said, grinning widely. I was one of the best students in the school, I loved receiving praise about my accomplishments.

"I see all of that in your file. I also see your practice SAT scores are quite high. Keep that up and you'll make National Merit Scholar after your PSATs. You got 5s in both AP Chem and AP American history last year, too. Great job."

"You flatter me, Mrs. Chen."

"I know it's early in your junior year, but have you been thinking about what you want to study in college, and where you'd like to attend?"

"I'm not sure what I want to do, maybe be a lawyer, or a professor like my dad?" I said. Like both of my parents, but I spent enough time with Mrs. Chen last year talking about Mom. "I think I want to go Ivy League. I'm a legacy at both Harvard and Columbia, which increases my chances at both of those schools, and my grades are good enough for them. My mom went to Bryn Mawr, I don't think they'd want me, though I imagine I'd have a good time there," I said cheekily.

"I appreciate your sense of humor, Ari, but this is a serious meeting. Where else are you thinking about?"

"Right now, I'm looking at Yale, Princeton, Columbia, Harvard, Penn, Brown, Stanford, Chicago, Wash U, Georgetown, Duke, and a few smaller liberal arts schools, like Williams, Amherst, Swarthmore, and Haverford. And Tufts, because my dad teaches there, but I don't really want to go where he is. Though I think I want a university, not a smaller school." Mrs. Chen was furiously scribbling some notes.

"Those are all fantastic schools, but you should include some safety schools as well."

"Do you think I won't get into one of them? I have a near perfect GPA, will probably have a great SAT score, and my extra curricular activities are plentiful and well-rounded," I said, frustrated. "I'm on track to be valedictorian or salutatorian."

"I know, Ari, you're an excellent candidate, and I'm sure you'll interview well, too. I just want to prepare you for the realities of college admissions. What have you done to set yourself apart from all of the other debate team captain, trombone playing, National Merit Scholar, soccer star, valedictorians applying for the same spots?"

I stared at her, flabbergasted. She was joking, right? No one had ever told me this before. I was always told I was doing the best things, the right things, to get into the best schools and succeed. "So you're saying I'm not special, that I'm just another smart overachieving Jewish kid applying to a top tier college, that I'm a dime a dozen?"

"I'm not saying THAT. I'm just saying, you have a year before you apply to college, you need to make it count, and do something to set yourself apart from other kids that meet the same qualifications and demographics you do. College admissions are a game, and you need to do everything you can to manipulate the system. You need to cast as wide a net as possible to increase your chances," Mrs. Chen said.

"So my dead mom doesn't count for anything?" I stammered angrily.

"Ari... What happened to your mother is a tragedy for you and your family, but in the admissions game, you're not the only kid with a parent who has passed away. Many children come from broken homes, and you're lucky that you had two college-educated, working parents who loved you very much." She paused, took off her glasses, and put her pen down. "I need you to really think about what I'm telling you. Find something that will make you stand out. Start a volunteer group. Enter some writing competitions. Get a unique summer job. Something that will make you look different and desirable."

Before I had a chance to respond, the bell rang. I finally knew what saved by the bell meant. "Thank you, Mrs. Chen, but I need to get to Spanish class. ¡Hasta luego!" I said, ready to run out of her office.

"Ari, please seriously think about what I'm telling you. You're a very promising student, and I'm not trying to discourage you. I want to increase your chances of getting into the best colleges."

* * *

 

When I got home that night, I was very pissed off. I'd spent my entire life working hard, for what?

Vic and I sat in my room after we finished our homework, playing a video game. I told him about what Mrs. Chen had told me. "Basically, I'm stuck going to a state school or a crappy third tier school because I'm not special," I said, as I violently pushed buttons.

"Easy," Vic said, "you're going to break the controller, and Dad won't buy us a new one. Also, I don't think Mrs. Chen said you weren't special, she just said you need something to make yourself stand out even more. What were her suggestions?"

"Starting a volunteer group? Pass. Entering competitions? No guarantees there. She also said to get a unique summer job. Not sure lifeguard at the JCC is really unique," I said. "I wish Mom and Dad had taught us a foreign language when we were babies. Being bilingual would give me a leg up."

"I don't think it's that easy," Vic said. "Elio told me that I need to do some sort of music training starting this summer so I have as much experience as possible when I apply for college. Maybe you're just starting too late, and you don't even know what you want to do."

"I'm 16, why should I know what I want to do with the rest of my life?"

"I'm 13, and I know I want to do something with music. I need to get Dad to submit my applications for some programs for this summer, soon."

I sighed, and we sat in silence for a while as we played our game.

Suddenly, Vic shouted. "Ari! I think I know what you should do! It's the perfect plan, for you, for me, for Dad!"

"Slow down, Vic. What's your idea?"

"You said that Professor Perlman told you that you should apply to be his assistant when you're in college or graduate school, right?"

"Yes, but I'm in high school. How does that help me now?" We paused the game and I put down the controller.

"Hear me out on this one. You also said he told you that we're always welcome at the villa, and that Elio stays there each summer?"

"Yes, but still, not helping."

"I'm getting there! What if you asked Professor Perlman if you could work as a summer intern? You can offer to help file his papers or something menial, and sit quietly and learn from him and his graduate student. Dad said he only ever did an hour or two of work a day there with him. That would be unique, it's a coveted position, and no one else applying to the same schools would have studied with a world renowned professor in Italy for a summer. You might even be able to get college credits out of it, since he's a professor."

I grinned. My brother was brilliant. "I'm liking this idea so far."

"If Elio is there, I could ask him if I could study music theory and piano with him. He said he'd teach me if we were ever in the same place. And Dad just does research and writes in the summer, he could easily do that in Italy instead of at home or at his office."

"I was liking this plan a little more when I was spending the summer away from you and Dad in another country, but continue."

"No, we all need to be there. You get your internship which helps you get into college, I get private music lessons with a Princeton professor, and we can push Dad to get together with Elio while we get to know him better. And we get to spend the summer in Italy. This is perfect! Why didn't we think of this before?" Vic said, as he stood up and started pacing around my bedroom.

Vic was right, this plan was perfect. As long as the professor agrees, and Elio agrees, and Dad says it's okay to spend an entire summer in Italy instead of at home. This was going to take a lot of convincing a lot of people.

"Vic, it's rare that I say this, but I am proud to call you my brother. Usually I'm the idea man, but this plan could be just the thing we all need. Let's email the professor and run this by him. If he says no, the whole thing is dead in the water. So we need to be extra convincing. Once he says yes, you suggest it to Elio. Dad can't say no if we make all of the arrangements before telling him about it."

"I think you're right. If Dad knew anything before we make the plans, he'd make us stop."

"Let me grab my laptop and I'll work on an email to Professor Perlman so we can set the wheels in motion for this summer," I said, sitting down at my desk and opening my laptop. This plan had better work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words on the last chapter, and thanks for your support! I hope you're all enjoying this story, and that you finally see where it's going :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	11. Catching up on Correspondence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something a little different with this one, and telling this chapter in emails and text messages. We'll get back to the first person narration in the next chapter!

To: Samuel Perlman <xxxxxxx@polimi.it>  
From: Ariel Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: Summer Internship  
Sent: Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Professor Perlman,

This is Ari, Oliver’s son. It was so great seeing you again at Vic’s Bar Mitzvah! I hope you made it back to Milan easily, and I hope Mrs. P’s hip is feeling better.

I found your contact information on your university’s web page - I know you usually correspond with my father via letter, so I hope you do use this email account.

I apologize if I seem a bit forthcoming, but at the Bar Mitzvah, you had said that we were always welcome at the villa, and that when I was older, I should apply to work with you for the summer. Would you be willing to take me on next summer to work as your intern? I know I’m only in high school, but I can do whatever busy work you need, and I’d love to learn more about classics and art, which we don’t really learn about in my high school.

Vic and I were thinking that he, my father and I could all spend the summer at the villa, if you had room for us. If you don’t have a spare bedroom (I remember the house being gigantic, but a five year old’s memories are not always accurate), Vic and I are willing to sleep on a couch or in sleeping bags on the floor. I could work with you, Vic could study music with your son (they have already been corresponding over email - Elio is currently helping Vic with an audition), and my dad could do research from anywhere, and I assume he’d want to spend the summer with my brother and me.

The reason I’m looking for a summer internship is because I recently had a very frustrating meeting with my guidance counselor during a college advisement session. I’m currently ranked second in my class, though I’m working very hard to graduate as valedictorian, and my guidance counselor thinks that despite my good grades, likely excellent SAT scores, and well-rounded extra curricular activities (including soccer team in the fall, track in the winter and spring, school plays, debate team captain, school band, and model UN), that I still don’t have enough experience or items on my resume that would make me stand out from other applicants similar to me. Mainly, I’m in competition with all of the other high achieving upper middle class white Jewish boys from the northeast.

I’m hoping to attend an Ivy League school like my parents both did (my parents met while getting their PhDs at Columbia, which you already knew), and I think that working with a world-renowned professor like yourself would both provide an eye-opening worldly academic experience, and would give me something unique that no other applicants would have. I realize this is selfish, and that I’m milking my dad’s connections, so I’m really sorry if this is out of line.

I had an amazing experience visiting your family at the villa when I was a kid, and I thank you for always being so open and accepting of our family.

Please let me know if you’d consider letting me work as your intern this summer.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Thank you,

Ari Morgenstern

* * *

 

To: Ariel Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Samuel Perlman <xxxxxxx@polimi.it>  
Subject: Re: Summer Internship  
Sent: Thursday, October 12, 2006

Hello Ari!

It’s so wonderful to hear from you! I actually received Vic’s thank you card in the mail just the other day, and was thinking about your family and the Bar Mitzvah.

I’ve never had a high school intern before, but I don’t see why I couldn’t. I think that’s a marvelous idea! Annella and I would love to have your whole family spend the summer with us!

Let’s discuss what this internship would entail and the work you would be required to do. My graduate or college student assistant usually helps with my correspondence, and assists in putting together my research publications. I would hope that you could do the same, in a lesser capacity. Any publications you assist on, I would include your name as a co-author, which could be really advantageous in your college applications.

Additionally, since you are young and I assume quite technologically literate, I have a great project you can help me with, which I’ve admittedly been putting off. I’m hoping to digitize many of my slides and papers. It would be a lot of busy work, scanning and cataloging, but you would learn much about classics and art in the process. Whenever I go out into the field for a day trip around Italy, I would take you with me - I once took your father on a trip when old statues dredged up in a lake, and I think he very much enjoyed that excursion.

Since you’ve never taken classes in my field, I’ll put together a reading list for you, so that you’re familiar with the basics before you begin. I’ll do anything I can to help give you a good letter of recommendation to help your admittance into a top university, but I would also like for this to be an enriching learning experience for you. If I’ve done a good job, I’ll have convinced you to pursue academia.

Some bedroom logistics: Don’t be silly about sleeping on a couch or a sleeping bag - we have more than enough space, though we’d need to figure out the mattress situation given that you and your father are both too tall for a twin bed.

You and your brother could share the attic - it’s a very large room, we have a few mattresses up there, and one of them should be long enough for you. We’ll get frames for the beds before you get here. Your father should probably take Elio’s old bedroom, which he slept in when he was here, since he was able to push the two mattresses together to accommodate his height. Elio likely won’t mind staying in the smaller bedroom, where he used to sleep when we had a summer student. We have a small guest bedroom on the first floor, which we can give to my graduate student assistant this year. It’ll be a crowded and lively house, but there is plenty of room.

I’ll need to speak with your father directly, of course, to iron out the details of your stay, but I look forward to working with you this summer.

Best,

Sammy

 

* * *

To: Samuel Perlman <xxxxxxx@polimi.it>  
From: Ariel Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Summer Internship  
Sent: Thursday, October 12, 2006

Pro!!

Thank you so much! This is amazing - you won’t regret this! I work VERY hard, and I’m really excited to learn from you.

I haven’t actually told my father that I contacted you - we’re still waiting to hear back from Elio to see if he’s willing to give composing and piano lessons to Vic, but we’re hopeful he’ll say yes. I wanted to have the whole plan put together before I propose it to Dad, so he won’t be able to say no.

Seriously, I can’t thank you enough. I can’t wait to spend my summer at the villa, working as your intern.

I’ll let you know what my father says once I’ve told him about everything.

Thank you for your help!

-Ari

* * *

Text conversation between Elio and Oliver, October 14, 2006

_**Hey. How are you?** _

_Hi, Oliver! I’m ok, very exciting Saturday night grading papers._

**_I’m doing the same._ **

**_I’m surprised you’re not out on a hot date._ **

**_Sorry I haven’t been in touch since…_ **

_It’s ok._

_I was out of line._

**_No, it’s fine, you weren’t._ **

**_I encouraged it._ **

**_I’ve never done anything like that before._ **

_Really?_

**_I mean, email and cell phones both became a thing after I got married._ **

_That’s true._

_It’s fun, can spice things up from time to time._

**_Deb and I… we weren’t adventurous like that._ **

_This guy I saw briefly last year, an art dealer in the city_

_When he was drunk, he would text me pictures of his cock._

**_That’s provocative. Did you send pictures in return?_ **

_No, the pictures were always unsolicited._

_I wouldn’t mind if you sent me a picture, though ;)_

_He wasn’t nearly as well-endowed as you are._

_I could send you one of me._

_The pictures on these flip phones are grainy and hard to see properly_

_But it could do the job :)_

**_Elio…_ **

**_For many reasons, I don’t think that would be appropriate._ **

_I know, I know, I know._

_I’m being selfish again._

_A visiting professor from Stanford I was sleeping with a few years ago,_

_She was very into phone sex._

_Possibly more than actual sex, which was mildly disappointing._

**_Are you trying to make me jealous?_ **

_What if I was?_

**_It’s certainly working._ **

**_But Elio, listen._ **

**_We probably shouldn’t do anything like that right now._ **

**_It’s just… I’m not ready._ **

**_I need more time._ **

_I get it. I’m sorry I pushed you._

**_You didn’t push me. I wanted it._ **

**_I wanted you._ **

**_I want you._ **

_I’ll wait for you._

**_Elio… I don’t know how much time I need._ **

**_I can’t ask you to do that for me._ **

_I want to wait._

**_You should keep living your life._ **

**_Go on dates._ **

**_Sleep with women. Sleep with men._ **

**_Have a good time._ **

**_You’re still into both women and men, right?_ **

_Yes, but I’m mostly into you._

**_I’m serious, Elio._ **

**_What if I need years?_ **

**_I can’t imagine you waiting that long for sex._ **

**_When we were together, you could barely wait a few hours._ **

_That was your fault._

_The way you looked, your shirt unbuttoned_

_Those short shorts and the way your thighs glistened in the summer heat._

_You were very distracting._

_You are still very distracting,_

_But I need to get back to grading papers. Can we talk soon?_

**_Quick question before you go, the reason I was texting in the first place._ **

**_What’s your email address?_ **

**_Your personal account, not your school one._ **

_xxxxxxxxx@gmail.com_

_What’s yours?_

**_xxxxxx@gmail.com_ **

**_The boys made me switch from AOL last year._ **

**_Sometimes I find it easier to express myself over email than text message._ **

**_It’s easier than typing in 160 characters._ **

**_Easier typing on a keyboard._ **

**_Lets me get out an entire thought without thinking about a response._ **

_I look forward to your emails, then :-)_

_Good night, Oliver._

**_Good night, Elio._ **

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@princeton.edu>  
From: Victor Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Music  
Sent: Sunday, October 15, 2006

Hi Elio,

I hope your week went well. My week was really good. I got a 99 on my social studies test and we’re currently playing a few suites from Holst’s The Planets in school band. I love the Mars Suite - John Williams definitely took inspiration from this when he wrote the Star Wars music, right?

On your recommendation, I checked out Slaughterhouse Five from the library. I’ve never read Kurt Vonnegut before, but I’m really liking it so far.

I’m sorry if this is a big imposition, but I have a question for you. More of a favor, really? I don’t really know what this is.

My brother emailed your father and asked if he can be an intern for him this summer. Ari’s guidance counselor told him that he needs to do something big and different this summer to stand out in his college applications, and we thought that working with your dad would be something no other kid had on their application. Dad likely won’t let Ari go to Italy for the summer alone, so we were thinking the whole family could go. Ari already cleared it with your father, and he said we’re more than welcome to spend the summer there, and that Ari can be his intern. Since you’ll be spending the summer at your parents’ villa, too, I was wondering if you would be willing to give me piano lessons and composing lessons? It would be a really great experience to learn from someone as talented as you, and if I’m not at home for the summer, I’d be going two months without piano lessons. Also, I’d be able to spend the summer with my dad and brother instead of away at a music camp or program at a college, and would receive private music instruction instead of being in a group. We haven’t actually told Dad any of this, though, so please don’t tell him…

I’m sorry if I’m asking too much of you. It’s silly to expect a college professor to give lessons to a teenager…

Anyway, thank you for all of the help you’ve given me so far. I should be finding out about first chair at some point in the next week or so.

Best,

Vic

* * *

To: Victor Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@princeton.edu>  
Subject: Re: Music  
Sent: Monday, October 16, 2006

Vic,

I’m glad to hear you’re liking Slaughterhouse Five! I think you’ll really like Vonnegut - some of his books delve off the deep end a bit, and some are a bit too fantastical/science fiction, but he’s a writer with a distinct style and with something very specific to say.

If you can convince your father to let you all spend the summer in Italy (good luck with that, by the way), of course I’ll give you lessons. I’m not good enough at woodwind instruments to teach them to someone else, so I could only really instruct you on piano and guitar. Seeing how piano is your primary instrument outside of school, I hope that’s what you’re looking for. I can teach you the basics of composition and transcription, and by the end of the summer, I hope that you’ll write your first piece for piano. That’ll be great for your portfolio if you’re applying for advanced music classes or university programs.

Let me know what your father says about this summer, and then I’ll work to put together a curriculum for you for the summer. I’ll pick a music theory textbook, and send you some pieces I’d like you to practice before the summer. Maybe I can arrange several performance opportunities for you, as well.

Best of luck with your after school orchestra! Your final audition tape was fantastic, and they’d be crazy to not select you, but if you aren’t chosen, don’t worry. There will be other auditions and other groups, and there’s always next year.

Regards,

Elio

* * *

_Note: Assume the emails between Elio and Marzia are actually in French._

To: Marzia Giordano-Leroux <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>  
Subject: Summer in Italy  
Sent: Monday, October 16, 2006

 

Marzia, mon amie!

How are you doing? How is Thierry? Thank you for sending the beautiful picture of Noemie - I have framed it and put it on my desk next to the picture of us in Central Park when I took you to New York City when you visited me in university. I can’t believe she’s three already! Time flies.

Are you going to be spending time at your parents’ villa this summer? I would love to see you, and I have big news about my family’s summer guests this year. You are going to need to sit down for this one.

OLIVER IS GOING TO BE SPENDING THE SUMMER AT THE VILLA. Yes, you read that correctly. My Oliver. Tall, blond, most handsome man I’ve ever met, legs for days? That Oliver. His older son somehow convinced my father to take him on as a summer intern and let the whole family stay for the summer. Well, not the whole family. I don’t know if I told you that Oliver’s wife passed away early this year in a car accident. He’s still really shaken over it.

So… Oliver, who is newly single (I know it’s tragic that his wife died), is going to be in the same house as me, for an entire summer. While his older son works with my father, I’m going to be teaching his younger son music theory and give him piano lessons. I’ve actually been keeping an email correspondence with his younger son, who just turned 13. I met him at his Bar Mitzvah (I will tell you about the Bar Mitzvah later. I have a lot to tell you.), and he’s a really talented musician. He emailed me asking for career advice, and we’ve been talking about music and culture ever since. He’s a really sweet and smart kid. I was worried that meeting Oliver’s family would be rough, but his children are wonderful.

I realize I am burying the lede here, but… I kissed Oliver. Last month. At his son’s Bar Mitzvah. My mom wasn’t medically cleared to fly, so my dad asked me to come up to Massachusetts and go with him to the party. We went to a private room to talk for a few minutes, and wound up making out. I didn’t plan on kissing him, but it just kind of happened. My god, kissing him again, it was amazing. He told me that he wasn’t saying no to us, but he needs time to mourn his wife and to think about things. We exchanged cell phone numbers, though, and we’ve been texting a bit since then.

And by texting, I mean having phone sex. Text sex? Do the kids have a word for this? It was really, really hot. He put a stop to it, and said he still needs more time, and that I should keep living my life. How do I do that when he’s out there, and I want to be with him? Why do I live five hours away from him?

Marzia, I miss you, and I wish we were in the same country so we could see each other more often. Can we skype soon?

Send Thierry my love, and give Noemie a big kiss for me.

Love,

Elio

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Marzia Giordano-Leroux <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>  
Subject: Re: Summer in Italy  
Sent: Tuesday, October 17, 2006

 

Elio, mon cheri!

I miss you, too! I’m going to be in New York in February for Fashion Week, can we get together then? Unfortunately, it’ll just be me, Noemie is staying in Paris with Thierry, so you’ll have to wait until summer to see them. We will be in Italy for most of the summer, though, so I hope you won’t get too sick of us! I’ll be bringing Noemie to your parents’ villa quite often, since your parents let us swim in their pool whenever we want to. Chiara told me that she and Fabrizio will be at her parents’ house for a few weeks this summer, too.

How come you didn’t tell me about the kiss with Oliver until now? I can’t believe you kept that to yourself! I’m your best friend, and I’m an old married mother now, I need to live vicariously through your sex life and your love story.

Is Oliver still as sexy as he was that summer? Is he as fit? Does he still have his hair?

What do you mean that you had text sex? Were naughty pictures involved? I need every detail. Seriously, domestic life is boring, I need to know everything. I would not be opposed to seeing these pictures, either, if they helped you tell the story.

I’m really sorry to hear about his wife’s passing. That must be really rough for him. Is it bad that it means I’m happy for you, though, because now you can spend the summer trying to seduce him again, and he won’t be cheating on anyone? I can’t believe he’s going to be there the whole summer. I give it two days before you’re fucking like rabbits.

What will you do if you do get back together with him? Will you move to Boston to be with him?

I hear Noemie crying in her bedroom, so I should probably go check on her.

I love you, and I’ll talk to you soon. Let’s figure out a date to skype in the next couple of weeks?

Love,

Marzia

* * *

To: Marzia Giordano-Leroux <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>  
Subject: Summer in Italy  
Sent: Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Marzia,

How does this Saturday work for you for skyping? 3PM your time? Will you be home then?

Unfortunately, no pictures were involved. Just a really steamy conversation about what I would do to him if we were alone in a room together. I got carried away, but he was encouraging me, even participating a little. He told me that he wants me, and misses me, but needs time. I want to give him time, but how long do I wait? I’ve been waiting for 20 years. I really hope he isn’t just leading me on.

If we got together, I don’t know what I would do. Long distance I guess? It’s not that far, and I could drive up there on the weekends. He teaches up in Boston, and I'm in New Jersey. He has his boys, and I couldn’t ask them to relocate for me, so it would be on me. I’m getting very ahead of myself here, but I could probably get a teaching post somewhere in Boston. I’d lose my tenure track position at Princeton, but it would be worth it to be with him. But we’re not together, and I don’t know if we’ll ever be together, so this whole conversation is hypothetical.

Kissing him last month, it stirred something fierce in me. He’s still SO handsome, you have no idea. Hasn’t gained a pound, still has his hair, but you know I would be attracted to him even if he gained 100 pounds and lost his hair (but I hope neither of those happens). He’s got a bit of grey along his temples, and a couple of wrinkles and sunspots, but it all just serves to make him look even more distinguished and sexy. But also, he’s still so charming, and so caring, and so intelligent and accomplished. Not to mention, he is such a good father. He’s perfect, Marzia. I can’t lose him again. How do I know when he stops needing time? How do I know if he’ll ever be ready for me?

I need to go head out to my music seminar, but I will hopefully talk to you this weekend?

Love,

Elio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first appearance of Marzia! I've decided that she's half French and half Italian. Her husband's name is Thierry, he's French, they have a three year old named Noemie, and she works in fashion merchandising in Paris.
> 
> Your comments on the last chapter were all so nice, I really appreciate all of your kind words! Thank you for reading and for your continued support. As always, you are all the best readers.


	12. Pocket Dialing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit NSFW :) It's also quite long.
> 
> Enjoy!

_**POV: Oliver, November 4, 2006** _

For the first time in days, I had the house to myself. Ari was at SAT prep class and was going to spend the evening with his friends. Vic was at a Bar Mitzvah, and his friend’s mother was going to drive him home. I had no papers to grade, no exams to mark.

I went for a ten mile run, the longest I’d taken in months. I thought about the courses I was teaching next semester, about how Deb would have loved to run lines with Ari for his musical and how sad I was that she wouldn’t be able to see him as the lead, about how Vic has been emailing with Elio for help with his music and still hasn’t told me about it.

After a long, hot shower, I sat on the couch to watch some college football. I didn’t really have a school I supported, but I enjoyed watching the games anyway (I mean, I cheer for Harvard, but they’re not very good so I don’t seek out the games, and the Ivy League doesn’t go to post-season or championships). The marquee at the bottom of the screen listed the day’s score, and the Princeton score scrolled by, which immediately reminded me of Elio. It had been two months since the Bar Mitzvah, two months since our kiss. I still didn’t know what to do. I needed to see him again, to touch him again, kiss him again. He lives too far away, and I don’t know if my heart can handle long distance right now. If I’m with him, I need to be WITH him. Is it easier to be alone or to be with someone but not able to physically be with them most of the time? How could I ask him to uproot his life for me? I certainly couldn't move mine right now.

I took my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through the last few text conversations we had, going back to the first sexy conversation. How did I let it get that far? I guess that I wanted it and he wanted it. If I was trying to be good, this wasn’t necessarily bad. It was just some text messages.

Reading through that conversation and the one that followed was getting me hard. I was alone in the house, and reached into my sweatpants and boxers, gripping myself tightly. Using my free hand, I read through the conversation again, thinking about what Elio said he would do to me if we were in the same room. I should have taken him up on his offer to send me a naked picture of himself, that would have certainly made me even harder right now.

Eventually, I got myself into a good rhythm of stroking and tugging. I closed my phone, and kept thinking about Elio. Elio in the slim fit suit. Elio taking off the slim fit suit. Elio’s perfect wet lips sucking my cock. Elio's long, hard cock in my mouth. I was pretty close to climax when my phone started to ring. I was thrown from my rhythms, and stopped what I was doing, in case it was one of the boys. The caller ID read “Oliver”.

Elio was calling. Were we telepathically linked? Did he know that he was my masturbatory fodder? I pulled my hand out of the waistband and answered the phone.

“Hello? Elio?”

“Hi Oliver, is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” I said, slouching on the couch, muting the game. “What’s up?”

“You called me,” he said. “I had a missed call from you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. We… we’ve only been texting and emailing, so I assumed it was an emergency.”

“I didn’t call you,” I said, very confused. “But it’s nice to hear from you.”

“Maybe you pocket dialed me?” I wonder if I accidentally dialed his number when I was holding my phone with my left hand to look at my texts while I pleasured myself with my right hand.

“It’s possible, my phone was in my pocket.” A lie, but easier and less embarrassing than the truth, though I could probably tell him the truth with no judgment. “How have you been? What are you up to?”

“I’ve been sitting at the piano. I’m working on a new composition,” Elio said.

“I can’t wait to hear it. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anything you’ve written before.”

“You should ask your son to play you one - I’ve sent him a few of my pieces.”

“Elio, I have to say… it is so weird that you and Vic have become… friends? Is that what you are?”

“I guess we are. I see it more as a mentor role, but I guess we are friends. Did you know that he emails me almost every day? He’s worried that he won’t be selected for the pit orchestra for his school’s performance of West Side Story in the spring. He said that his music teacher doesn’t understand the nuances of Bernstein and is going to screw it up.”

“He definitely doesn’t get his musical proclivities from me, I tell you that much,” I said with a chuckle.

“Oliver, he’s really talented. He’s young and bright and has a great future ahead of him in music,” Elio said. “He’s actually the only one I’ve shared this recent composition with. He gives surprisingly good musical criticism, considering how young he is. His opinions are unfiltered and raw, it’s been helpful.”

“Hey, Elio,” I said, sighing into the receiver. “Do you think you could play it for me? I haven’t heard you play for so long.”

Elio paused for a minute, contemplating my request. “Sure, want me to email you a recording?”

“No, can you play it for me now? Can you put the phone near the piano? I would love to hear you play.”

“Sure, I can do that. But just be forewarned, this is a rough draft, I’m still working on it.”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell, and I’m sure it’s amazing. I used to love sitting on the couch in your parents’ living room, watching you play. You used to convey so much emotion, from how you held your body while you played, to the way you let some notes linger a bit too long.”

“I loved playing for you. It was the only thing I was better at than everyone else in the room, and I wanted to show off for you. Playing was my way of flirting with you.”

I grinned, even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “Like when you kept switching up the Bach piece?”

“Exactly. Except after, I spent days kicking myself, I thought that when I showed off, you didn’t like me. I liked you so much, and the thought that you hated the way I played, that you hated me… I was so upset.”

“I could have never hated you, you goose,” I said playfully. “Do you remember that one time, when we had the house to ourselves for a few hours, and you played for me? I was so turned on, you were playing shirtless and glistening with sweat, and you were so, so talented, playing just for me and no one else, that I couldn’t keep my hands off of you while you played.”

“How could I ever forget that? You started by kissing my neck, and my torso, but you wouldn’t let me stop playing for anything. You pulled off my swim trunks, knelt in front of me below the keys, and took me in your mouth. I was hard instantly. You sucked me off to the rhythms of the song. Except, I was playing Clair de Lune, and you were going so painfully, teasingly slow. It was torture. When I finally came, it was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had in my life. I still can’t play Debussy without getting an erection almost immediately.”

I was already hard again, thinking about that day. “I’m sorry I ruined him for you.”

“Oh, you definitely didn’t ruin it. Only happy memories attached to that,” he said with a heavy breath. “Did you want me to play my piece for you now?”

“Yes, please,” I said.

“OK, I’m going to put the phone on speaker phone, and leave it on top of the piano. Hopefully you can hear it.” I heard the phone beep once, and then Elio hit a few keys on the piano and shouted, his voice a bit more tinny, “Can you hear the music? Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” I said. “Play for me.”

Within a few moments, Elio began to play. I wished I could watch him at the piano, but I settled for listening to him play. I don’t have enough musical expertise to describe what he was playing, but I can describe the emotions it evoked. At the same time, the piece was melancholy and hopeful. I felt sad, and happy, and reminiscent of the past. As I listened, I thought about the memory Elio and I discussed. While I listened to him continue to play, I took off my sweatpants and my boxers, and began stroking myself again, to the music he was playing. I wanted him so badly.

As the music sped up, so did my motions. I closed my eyes, taking in the music, and imagined that Elio was here, that it was his hand on my cock instead of my own. I felt myself reaching climax, and I imagined that I was straddling Elio, ready to come on his stomach. As I peaked, I realized I was moaning loudly. I quickly grabbed a tissue, cleaned myself off, and prayed that he didn’t hear me. He finished playing a moment later.

“So, what did you think?” he asked.

“That was… amazing. Thank you for sharing that with me, Elio.”

We wound up spending the next two hours on the phone, talking about our classes, politics, his parents, books and films we had enjoyed recently, and more. It was so nice to have a friendship with him again, that we still had so much in common and so much to talk about.

* * *

The next day, I took Ari for another driving lesson. We’d been going out one to two times per week, and he was getting better, but some things still made him nervous. Today, we were going to go out on the highway for the first time to practice merging and switching lanes.

“How is your SAT class going,” I asked him, as we drove.

“Pretty great, I’ve been getting nearly perfect scores on all three sections. By the time the exam rolls around, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

“That’s great! Keep it up, and you’ll get those college acceptances in no time.”

“About that,” Ari said. “I didn’t tell you about my college advisement session with Mrs. Chen a few weeks ago.”

“There’s an opening in the left lane, merge over to the left, use your signal and check your mirrors,” I said, as we drove. “What did Mrs. Chen say?”

“Well, first, that I’m on track to be salutatorian or valedictorian, and that I’m acing all of my classes and extra-curriculars, but that it’s not enough to get me into college.”

“What do you mean not enough? I know admissions are a gamble, but your qualifications are great, you’ll get into at least one of the top schools you apply to,” I said. “I work at a top university, and you’re just as talented as my students.”

“She basically implied that I’m just another spoiled white Jewish boy from Boston, and that there are hundreds of kids just like me applying for the same spots. She said that I need to do something to differentiate my application from everyone else’s.” Ari was driving a bit too slowly, and the car behind us started to honk. I made Ari merge back into the right lane.

“I mean… I guess she isn’t wrong about trying to stand out, but I still think you’d have a strong application. What did she suggest?” I asked.

“So… I actually took care of that. She told me that one option would be to get a unique summer job, and I have one lined up.”

“Oh? Where will you be working?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Italy.”

I was glad that I wasn’t the one behind the wheel, because I might have swerved off the road. “Italy? Where will you be working in Italy? You can barely drive a car, are you planning on working as a gondolier in Venice? Why do you think I’d let you go to Italy?”

Ari took the next exit and soon pulled over in a Best Buy parking lot.

“No, Dad, please hear me out on this one. We’ve already made all of the arrangements.”

“Who is 'we'? Enlighten me, Ari.”

“Please let me tell you the whole thing before you get mad. Vic and I were talking and trying to figure out what I could do, what sort of summer job I could get, and we had a brilliant idea, something that no other applicant would have. At the Bar Mitzvah, Professor Perlman told me that when I was in graduate school, I should apply to work with him for a summer, so we figured… maybe he’d take me on as a summer intern now. I emailed him, and he said that he’d love to have me work with him this summer, and that I could help prepare his work for publication. He said he’ll write me a great letter of recommendation, but I’ll have to work for it. He wants me to digitize his entire collection, and that I’d learn a lot about his field in the process. He already sent me a reading list to start working on, but he said we couldn’t finalize anything about the summer until he spoke to you.”

“And you think I’ll just let you spend the summer in Italy by yourself? You’re sixteen!”

“I’ll be seventeen by the summer, but keep listening, I’m not done yet! This plan, it’s a really good plan, I promise. We knew that you wouldn’t let me go by myself, so you and Vic will go with me! Professor Perlman said that the whole family can spend the summer at the villa, that they’d love to have us there. Vic already asked Elio, and he said he would give him piano lessons and teach him music theory and composition, which means you don’t have to pay for a summer music program for Vic, since he’ll have private lessons with a freaking Princeton professor. And you always just write in the summer, it doesn’t actually matter where you are. In fact, you might even be able to do hands on research in Europe, all of the philosophers you write about were from Europe.”

This was a lot to digest at once. My sons had gone behind my back and spoken with the Perlmans, arranged for us to spend the summer there. Ari was right, I could do my research and writing from anywhere. Could I handle spending an entire summer with Elio around? Was I ready for that?

“I need to think about this, Ari. This is a lot to ask of me.”

“I know, Dad, but this is a really good opportunity. I’ll get to study with one of the world’s foremost classics scholars, as a high school student. You worked with Professor Perlman, you know this is too good to pass up. No other applicant will have something like this on their resume. It’s a really good chance for Vic, too.”

I sighed. This was probably why the boys spent so much time in each of their rooms, door closed. They were plotting this, waiting to spring it on me so I couldn’t say no.

“Professor Perlman said that his wife and Mafalda can’t wait for us to spend the summer there. He said that Vic and I can share the attic as a bedroom, and that you can have the same room you slept in when you worked there. He said there’s more than enough room for everyone in the villa.”

“Before I say yes, I’m going to have to talk to Sammy and iron out the details. I’ll need to make sure I can do my work from there. You realize this just won’t be a vacation in Italy, right?”

“I know, it’s going to be a lot of work, but it’ll be worth it. I think it’ll help me get into an Ivy League school.”

I put my hand on Ari’s shoulder. “I don’t appreciate you going behind my back, but I think you’re right, that it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. You’re lucky the Perlmans love you so much. Now, we should probably drive home. Do you want to do it, or should I drive?”

“I think I’m done for the day, I’d rather if you drove,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and immediately hopping out of the car to switch seats.

* * *

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it might be good to get away for the summer. Ari and Vic would both stand to gain a lot by working with their respective Perlman, and spending a summer at the villa, relaxing in heaven, sounded wonderful. This might also be a good opportunity to line up a few conferences and speaking engagements in Europe over the summer, expand my own resume.

But… Elio would be there. I would be sleeping in his old room… our old room. This meant he would probably be in the room next to mine, sharing a bathroom. I’ve been good at keeping myself calm and restrained, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to hold back for the entire summer. Maybe by June I’d be ready to move on, with him? Would I need to tell the boys about our history before we got to the villa? Did they need to know yet?

I needed to email Sammy, to make sure this was actually what he wanted and that he wasn’t just appeasing my son as a favor to me.

* * *

To: Samuel Perlman <xxxxxxx@polimi.it>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@tufts.edu>  
Subject: Summer at the Villa  
Sent: Sunday, November 5, 2006

Hey Pro,

I hope all is well, and that you, Annella, Mafalda, Manfredi, Anchise are good, that everyone is good and healthy.

I just spoke with my son, and it seems he has been secretly emailing you about working with you this summer? I really appreciate the offer for our family to stay with you for the summer, but it’s a very large imposition, and you really don’t have to. I’m sure you don’t actually want or need a summer intern. If you're doing it as a favor to me, I appreciate it, but it’s too much.

I am, however, impressed with his initiative. He showed me the reading list you sent him, and he’s already started on a few of the books. I think working with you would be a great experience for him, but you really don’t have to do this.

Let me know if you’ll be visiting a university in the northeast at some point soon, and we’d love to meet up and treat you for dinner.

Send my best to everyone.

-Oliver

* * *

To: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@tufts.edu>  
From: Samuel Perlman <xxxxxxx@polimi.it>  
Subject: Re: Summer at the Villa  
Sent: Monday, November 6, 2006

Hello, Oliver,

It’s so wonderful to hear from you. Annella sends her love, and says to give the boys each a kiss for her.

I was surprised to hear from Ari, but I actually think it would be great to have him work with me this summer! I have some work that I think would best be done by someone his age, and I hope that he’ll learn a lot. I think Vic will enjoy working with Elio, too. Elio told me that he’s going to teach him how to compose music, and help him write his first piece.

It’s seriously no imposition at all - our house is very large, and there’s more than enough room for all of us and all of you. Mafalda has said that she looks forward to cooking for you and your boys.

I hope that you’ll take me up on our offer, and spend the summer with us. We loved when you worked here the first time, and we’d love nothing more than to have you back.

Please let me know if you’ve made a decision so we can finalize dates and schedules.

I'll be at Brown for a conference in January. I would love to swing by Boston for a day to see you and the boys - I'll keep you posted on my travel plans.

Best,

Sammy

* * *

To: Samuel Perlman <xxxxxxx@polimi.it>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@tufts.edu>  
Subject: Re: Summer at the Villa  
Sent: Wednesday, November 8, 2006

Sammy,

I’ve thought it over, and we’ll accept your offer. I really appreciate how generous your family has always been to me and my family. I’ll make sure that Ari is ready to put in some hard work.

The boys’ last day of school is June 15, so should we plan to come out the next week? They go back on September 4th, so I was thinking we could leave August 24th or so. We're just waiting to confirm Ari's soccer training schedule. Does this work for you? If it does, I’ll start monitoring flights for the boys and me now.

Is there anything that you’d like us to do or bring before we arrive? Any specific plans we should make?

Once again, I appreciate everything, and I look forward to spending the summer at the villa.

-Oliver

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: Italy  
Sent: Wednesday, November 8, 2006

Elio,

It looks like we’ll be spending the summer together.

My boys told me that they were secretly planning to spend the summer working with you and your father at the villa. I have to admit, I’m a bit angry that they didn’t run it by me before asking, but the opportunity for Ari is too good to pass up.

I appreciate your offer to work with Vic this summer. I imagine that he’s very excited.

I’m told that I’m going to be sleeping in your old room… our old room. I imagine it’ll feel quite strange to be back there, sleeping on those beds again, with you in the next room. I’m sorry your father is making you take the small room, like you’re a teenager again. The boys are being given the attic - I don’t think we should tell them what we did up there. I still can't look at a peach without thinking of you.

I’ll be working on another book this summer, so I’m going to have to do a lot of work while I’m there, more than I did during our summer. Regardless, I’m looking forward to swimming with you at the lake, and relaxing in heaven.

I think I still need more time to think about everything, with us... I’m not ready yet, but it will be nice to spend the summer in such close proximity. We can get to know each other again, as friends, as adults, like we did over the phone a few weeks ago.

-Oliver

* * *

Later that night, I made lasagna for the boys for dinner. I figured I’d make something Italian to surprise them and tell them that I decided that we were going to spend the summer in Italy.

I called them down for dinner. Vic quickly came downstairs, washed his hands, and sat at the table. “What did you make for dinner, Dad? It smells great, I’m starving.”

Ari slid into the room a few minutes later. “Sorry, Dad, I was texting with Paige, I couldn’t leave her hanging.”

I pulled the lasagna out of the oven and put it down on the trivets on the table. “Ari, I cannot keep track of your love life. I thought you were dating Bianca?”

“No, that was over pretty quickly. Bianca was two girls ago. I saw Priya a few times last month, and now I’m hooking up with Paige.”

“As long as you’re being safe. Do you need me to buy you condoms?” I asked.

“DA-AD! I’m not having sex yet! I’m not ready for that,” Ari said, turning a bit red. Vic snickered. “We just make out.”

“He doesn’t just make out,” Vic said, shoveling lasagna into his mouth. “Bianca let him touch her boobs over her bra. And Jessica jerked him off once, but had to stop when they heard her dad come home.”

Ari ripped a piece of garlic bread and threw it at his brother’s head. “Hey! You didn’t have to tell him all of that,” he said. I raised my eyebrows at my sons.

“Boys, calm down. Ari, it’s okay, fooling around is completely normal at your age, and you’ll have sex when you’re ready for it. Just be careful, and always use protection. This goes for both of you. You should be having fun, and doing what feels comfortable or right for you, but never, ever pressure anyone to do something they don’t want to do. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” they both muttered.

“You should also not feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do, even if your friends are doing it. You can talk to me about sex, girls or boys, relationships, you know that. I won’t judge you, and I’m here to help,” I said, bringing a pitcher of water and three glasses to the table.

“I know that, Dad, thank you,” Ari said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“There is something else I wanted to talk to you boys about, though,” I said, serving myself a slice of lasagna. “I’ve decided that we’re going to spend the summer at the Perlman’s villa in Italy. Ari, you can intern for Sammy, and Vic, you can study music with Elio. I can work on my book from there.”

“Shit, Dad, really? Are you serious?” Ari exclaimed, his eyes opening wide. The boys looked at each other and smiled deviously. They knew I was going to say yes.

“I’m serious. Though I don’t appreciate that you two went behind me back, I admit that it’s actually a great plan. I think you’ll enjoy being in Italy in the summer.”

“Thank you so much, Dad!” Vic said, grinning widely. “Elio is such a good musician and pianist, I can’t wait to study with him!”

As we ate our dinner, we spoke about the logistics for the summer. I hadn’t seen my boys this happy in a long time. Maybe this summer was going to be a very good thing for all of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a broken record, but thank you for all of the kudos and comments! I appreciate the support!


	13. Perlman Family Skype Session

_**POV: Elio, December 3, 2006** _

How was it December already? It was snowing outside, and I was on a train back to Princeton from spending a weekend in Manhattan with Lisa, a Juilliard professor I occasionally see. We met at an academic music conference a handful of years ago, and sleep together whenever we’re in the same place and both single. She briefly played with the Houston Symphony, and now teaches violin in the String Department at Juilliard. We’re not dating, but once or twice a year, I’ll visit her in the city, or she’ll come down to Princeton for a day, and we’ll play some music and have sex.

I felt almost guilty visiting her this weekend, like I was cheating on Oliver. Which is outrageous, because despite what we both want, we are not together. In fact, he encouraged me to be enjoying myself, and to have sex. Which I definitely did, several times this weekend. I don’t have a deep enough connection with her to commit long-term, and she has said that she can never actually date or marry me because her strict immigrant parents would never forgive her for not marrying another Christian, preferably of Chinese descent. But, we enjoy each other’s company when we are together, and it works for us.

Oliver and I have been emailing and texting fairly regularly. Sometimes it’s just niceties, seeing how the other’s day was, or asking about the classes we’re teaching. Other times, usually after he’s had a drink or two, we reminisce about when we were together, or about what we would do if we were in the same place (though not in as nearly graphic detail as the first time, unfortunately). He’s still in mourning over his wife, and I think he feels guilty about his attraction to me. I don’t know how to tell him that different people grieve differently, and it’s all right to move on, without seeming like an opportunistic jerk, so I’ve just been trying to be here for him as best I can.

Now, we were going to spend the summer together. Well, not _together_ together, but in the same place. I was hopeful that he would come to his senses by the time June rolls around, but Oliver is one of the most disciplined people I’ve ever met. It was going to be incredibly difficult, with him in our old room and with me in my grandfather’s room, just a door away from one another. How could I stop myself from crawling into bed with him? I would need to take a lesson from the Oliver Morgenstern playbook and learn some self control.

I was looking forward to the summer, though. I missed my parents, and I loved spending my summers at the villa. It would be nice to spend some time with Marzia and her daughter, and to not have to prepare a single meal for myself for three months. I was also looking forward to getting to know Vic in person. He seemed like such a sweet and precocious kid. Other than myself, I don’t think I’ve ever known someone that young who was that interested in music in that way.

As the train sat in Secaucus with a delay, I decided to pull out my phone and text Oliver.

_Hey, Oliver, how are you doing?_

**_I’m good! I’m putting together a final exam for my freshman seminar._ **

_That sounds like… fun?_

**_Ha! Not really, but needs to get done._ **

_I’m on the train back to Princeton._

_I spent the weekend in the city._

_Saw the NY Phil yesterday._

_I think Vic would have enjoyed it - the first piece was a Mozart piano concerto._

**_He would have liked that._ **

**_I was thinking of getting him tickets to the Boston Pops for Chanukah._ **

**_I already bought the boys a Wii, but I want to get them each something personal, too._ **

_I’ll look at their schedule and make a recommendation for you._

**_I’d appreciate that!_ **

**_You’d know better than I would._ **

**_Is it sad that I think you know my son better than I do, now?_ **

_No, I think he’s finally found a kindred spirit with whom he can discuss music._

**_Speaking of Princeton and my sons,_ **

**_During February break, I’m going to be taking Ari down to NY and Philly to tour colleges._ **

**_We’re going to stop at Princeton._ **

**_Will you be around some time during the week of February 19th?_ **

_I’ll be here. Do you want me to give him a tour?_

**_That would be great._ **

_Actually, I could take Vic to the music department and let him sit in for a lecture._

**_Vic would LOVE that._ **

_What other schools are you planning on seeing?_

**_We’re trying to fit in as much as we can in February and April breaks_ **

**_We would have gone in the summer, but we won’t be in the country…_ **

**_The plan right now is to do Yale and Vassar on the first day._ **

**_We’ll spend the night in NYC, and then tour Columbia and NYU._ **

**_We figured we’d stop at Princeton on the third day, and then spend the night in Philly._ **

**_In Philly, we’re going to tour Penn, maybe Villanova (which might be a bit too Catholic for us), Swarthmore and Haverford._ **

_So Ari is VERY smart, then. Only top schools for him!_

**_He’s not really sure what he wants to do, so he’s casting a wide net._ **

_Hey, instead of staying in Philly, why don’t you guys just stay with me in Princeton?_

_I’ve got space. Saves you the money on a hotel room, and I'm less than an hour from all of the Philadelphia-area schools._

**_I don’t want to impose._ **

**_I’m already mooching off of your family for an entire summer._ **

_Don’t be crazy, Oliver._

_I’d love to have you._

**_That’s very generous of you, thank you, Elio._ **

**_We’ll iron out the details when it gets closer and we know what date we’ll be there?_ **

_Sounds great._

* * *

To: Marzia Giordano-Leroux <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>  
Subject: Re: Summer in Italy  
Sent: Monday, December 4, 2006

Marzia,

Just a quick email. Oliver is going to be spending a few nights at my place in February, about a week after you’re here. With his sons, but still. He’ll be here, at my place.

His son is touring Princeton, so I told him instead of getting a hotel, they should just stay with me.

He’s going to be sleeping in my bed (not with me, unfortunately. My bed is the only thing large enough for him. I’m going to take the couch and give his sons the guest room). What am I going to do? How am I going to keep my hands off of him? I guess it’ll be practice for this summer.

I miss you, and we’ll speak soon. I hope Noemie enjoys the toys I sent for Christmas.

Love,

Elio

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>  
From: Marzia Giordano-Leroux <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Summer in Italy  
Sent: Monday, December 4, 2006

Elio!

That is exciting! What you are going to do is seduce him and fuck him senseless. Or let him fuck you senseless? I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’m using the right terminology. I just want you two to fuck already. And then give me every last juicy detail. Have I mentioned how boring life is when you are married with a toddler? I get my kicks where I can.

Seriously, though, if his sons are there, I think you’ll be able to restrain yourself. Just be nice to him, and the boys, and let Oliver come to you. I don’t think you should push him, I think he needs to choose to be with you.

Noemie loved the toys. Attached is a picture of her with the doll - she asked me to “take a picture to send to Oncle Elly!”

We miss you, and I’ll see you so soon!

Love,

Marzia

* * *

I sat in my office sipping coffee, waiting for my parents to call. We Skyped every Tuesday during my lunch hour, after my father returned home from the university and Mafalda had served dinner.

I was sitting idly on Facebook, looking at the pictures Oliver was tagged in. I had been stalking him on there since he joined, and had already memorized the pictures of Oliver that Vic had posted (unsurprisingly, we were already Facebook friends). Vic posted a lot of pictures of his father and brother, he clearly loved them very much. May he never change.

Oliver added me as a friend last week. I quickly began looking through my profile, making sure to scrub and untag anything I didn't want him to see. Thankfully, I had already removed the pictures from my vacation last year with Diego, when we visited his grandparents in Mexico. Diego was a lawyer who worked in the governor's office in Trenton, and we dated for about a year. He just told his family I was his "amigo" and not his "novio", which I understood, but still bothered me - times were starting to change, and I wanted to be able to be out in the open with a partner, but his family was religious. I was so incredibly lucky to have such a warm and supportive family. We split amicably last spring when he got a job in DC, and we decided long distance was not worth the effort.

My parents finally called me as I was looking at pictures from when Oliver and his family went skiing in Vermont in late 2005, only a few months before Deb died.

"Elio, can you hear me?" my father said, his mouth too close to the microphone.

"Papá, I say this every week, you don't have put your head that close to to mic, I can hear you."

"Is that Elio?" my mother said in the background.

"Bonjour, maman," I said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay, tesoro. I met with an orthopedic surgeon in Milan, and she thinks I should schedule my hip replacement procedure soon, maybe in the spring."

"How long is the recovery? Will you be okay by summer?"

"I certainly hope so. I need to be spry, with teenagers running amuck in the house," she said with a chuckle.

"I can't believe Oliver is going to spend the summer at the villa. That summer with him, was twenty years ago this summer."

"Are you okay with that, Elly Belly? I should have checked with you before I told Ari that he could work for me," my dad said.

"No, it's fine. It'll be good for him, and I'm actually looking forward to working with Vic. Anyway, Oliver and I have actually been talking a lot recently."

"Oh? What about?" my mother asked. I knew from her tone of voice that she was prying for whatever salacious detail I was willing to divulge.

"We talk about our work, his kids, small talk. He's still mourning his wife, so nothing can actually happen until he's ready."

"Oh, sweetheart, that takes time. You have to let him heal at his own pace. If he's ready, he'll come back to you."

In the years after Oliver's departure, I had told them most things about Oliver. They knew that we had been together, and they knew how broken I was for a long time after he got engaged. My last year of high school was basically a blur, but slowly, in college, I was able to move on.

"We were texting a few weeks ago, and he told me that he wants me and misses me, but that he doesn't know how much time he needs. How long do I give him? Do I wait?"

"Elio, you can't pressure him. Let him come to you," my father said. "If you do anything too quickly or too soon, you'll both get hurt, and I can't bear to see that.

"I know, papá. It's just, I've spent the past twenty years accepting that I would never get to be with him, and that our two weeks were all I'd have, but now that it could happen, in the not so distant future, I don't know what to do or how long to wait."

"You'll spend the summer getting to know each other again, and if it's meant to be, it'll happen. You just keep being his friend, and be there for him in his time of need. You'll still have a nice time spending your summer with him, and you'll still have your memories from your first summer together."

I knew my parents were right, but I was anxious and didn't want to wait. I wanted Oliver to be mine, I wanted to be his, and I wanted to be together. Since the Bar Mitzvah, since I felt like I might actually be able to be with him again, I've thought of nothing else, and it was driving me mad.

Suddenly, I heard a vacuum cleaner turn on in the background, and couldn't hear what my parents were saying. Mafalda was clearly in the room, cleaning up, and didn't realize my parents were talking to me. The vacuum shut off, and then Mafalda began screaming into the mic, in Italian.

"Elio! I miss you! When will you be coming home?"

"Hi Mafalda! I'll be there in two weeks, I'm staying from Chanukah to New Years!"

"Wonderful, wonderful! I'll have to make sure to stock up on Nutella before you arrive! Bring any clothing you want me to mend. And let your parents know if there's anything you want me to cook for you while you're here!"

"Everything you make is amazing," I said. "I can't wait to see you."

"Elio, we should get going, but we'll talk next week, and see you a few days after that?" my mom said.

"Yep! Is Anchise going to pick me up at the airport?"

"Either he or myself," my father added.

"Wonderful, I love you both, and we'll speak next week."

"We love you, Elly Belly. Stay well."

"I love you, sweetheart. Talk to you soon," my mother added, as they disconnected the call.

* * *

The rest of the semester passed in no time. I gave my final exams, graded final papers, and jetted off to Italy. My father picked me up at the airport, and scooped me into a tight hug. "Welcome home!" he said.

He drove me to the villa, where we'd be spending the next two weeks. After a very long nap in my room, the room Oliver would take this summer, the room where I bedded Oliver dozens of times, our room, I came downstairs to my father's office, where my parents were going over applications for the summer student. My father handed me a pile of applications and said that these were his top contenders.

"This is my favorite, by far. She comes highly recommended by a colleague from Columbia. She's an undergrad, and only a freshman, but he says she's the most promising student he's seen in years."

I looked over her application. Jasmine Jenkins, only recently turned 18, grew up in Detroit, currently at Barnard on a full scholarship. Her picture was her high school graduation picture. She was an adorable kid - very dark skin, big eyes, round face, chubby cheeks, bushy natural hair beneath her graduation cap. So young and full of hope. Her application essay was fantastic, and in his letter of recommendation, my father's colleague said that Jasmine hopes to get a PhD in classics and become a professor. Her intelligence and work ethic speak for themselves, but she also comes from a working class family without many connections, and she's had to work for everything she's earned (which made me think of Ari. Vic says he works hard, but also has everything handed to him, including this internship). Her scholarship precludes study abroad, so this would be one of her only opportunities to work in Europe as an undergraduate.

"She looks fantastic, papá, but are you sure you want an undergrad and not a graduate student whose dissertation you can assist with?"

"This would be a great opportunity for someone like Jasmine, who is still brand new to academia and looking for her place. I can help establish her connections and get her on some of my publications. Instead of working on a dissertation, I can help her build her academic career, and first-author a journal article. Also, since Oliver's boys will be here, she's much closer in age to them than a graduate student is, and they'll all have someone to spend their down time with."

"It sounds like you don't even need my help. Don't even give me another application to read, then, and send her the acceptance!" I said, looking forward to meeting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll meet Jasmine, the Perlman's summer student, in a few chapters! Professor Perlman needs an actual university student to mentor, after all.
> 
> As always, your support means everything to me, and keep the comments and kudos coming!


	14. College Tours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long, but I think you will all really like this one. Lots of sexual tension and flirting abound between Oliver and Elio as Oliver spends a few nights at Elio's condo in Princeton.

_**POV: Oliver, February 6, 2007** _

As the spring semester unfolded, a dark cloud unfurled over the Morgenstern home. The anniversary of Deb’s death was tomorrow, and we knew we would all be too sad and lethargic to function normally. I canceled my classes for tomorrow and kept the boys home from school so we could spend the day together.

We decided to do things Deb would have enjoyed, to honor her. We slept in, and I made the boys chocolate chip pancakes, Deb’s favorite breakfast. We then watched _Grease_ , which was her favorite movie when she was a teenager, a film she would force us to sit through multiple times a year. I had to admit that I didn’t see the appeal, the story felt dated and sexist to me, but when the boys were little, they loved to sing along to the songs with their mother. Vic and I sang along as we watched, while Ari crossed his arms, refusing to participate, acting like a typical teenager.

Later that afternoon, we drove to the cemetery for the unveiling ceremony. In Judaism, within a year of a relative’s death, there is a small religious ceremony where the gravestone is literally “unveiled”. Rabbi Zelnick met us at the graveside, said a few blessings, and removed the sheet covering the headstone. Along with her name in Hebrew at the top and an image of a star of David, it read: “Deborah Feinberg Morgenstern, PhD. 1963-2006. Beloved wife, mother, friend and scholar.” I had insisted on including the PhD, since Deb was one of the most accomplished and smartest people I had known, and having a family had not been her only accomplishment in this life. Vic held my hand and quietly sobbed, and Ari buried his head on my shoulder, trying not to cry.

Before we left, we each placed a stone above the grave marker. My parents and grandparents were buried in the same Jewish cemetery, so we found their graves and placed pebbles on the gravestones, as well.

Even though it was February, we went to get ice cream sundaes after the ceremony, which we thought Deb would have appreciated and enjoyed. “I really miss mom,” Vic said, as he licked chocolate syrup off of his spoon. “This year has been really tough without her.”

“I know, Vic,” I said, affectionately messing up his hair a bit. “I’ve been really proud of the way you boys have stuck together, spending time with one another and bonding. Your mother would be so happy to know how close you are.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ari said. “I really wish she could have been here for _Anything Goes_ , she would have been in the front row for every performance,” he added.

“You were fantastic, she would have been so proud,” I said. “Vic, she’d be very proud of you, too. You’re both doing so well, and you’re such good kids. I love you both so much.”

That evening, we played board games in the living room while we ate Chinese takeout from Deb’s favorite restaurant. Whenever we'd play Trivial Pursuit, Deb had always won. Vic took after his mother - he was quite good at trivia, and easily beat Ari and myself.

After the boys went to bed, I laid in bed reading _Everyman_ by Philip Roth (which was admittedly not the best book to be reading today, given its subject matter about death and funerals), thinking about the day and the past year. My bed was still so lonely without Deb in it. My thoughts wandered to Elio, and how much I wished he was in the bed with me. I heard a knock on my door. “Come in!” I shouted. Vic stood in the doorway in his pajamas, holding a copy of _Cat’s Cradle_ by Kurt Vonnegut.

“I couldn’t sleep. Can I read in here?” he asked, walking toward the bed.

“Of course, Pup, c’mere,” I said, patting the bed. When Vic was born, Ari was convinced he was getting a puppy and not a baby brother, so for the first few years of his brother’s life, Ari pretended that Vic was a dog and called him Puppy. When Vic was a toddler, Ari would force him to walk around the house on all fours and bark instead of speak. Vic always complied, in an effort to appease his older brother. We called Vic, “Pup,” more often when he was little, but we occasionally still used it.

Vic crawled into bed, got under the cover, and opened his book. “Are you reading this for school? I didn’t think they got to Vonnegut until high school.” I said, looking at the book he was reading.

“Oh, just for me. Elio told me he thought I’d like Vonnegut. I’ve already read _Slaughterhouse Five_ and _Breakfast of Champions_.” Interesting, but not surprising, that Elio was recommending books to my son.

After about twenty minutes, Ari came into the room, his well-worn copy of _High Fidelity_ in hand. This was always the book he went back to when he was sad. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, crawling into bed on my other side. By midnight, both boys had fallen asleep, and Vic’s head was on my chest. I took the boys’ books and put them on the nightstand, quietly reaching over Ari. I then pulled the blanket over all of us, set the alarm clock so the boys would wake up early enough for school, shut the light, and fell asleep, sandwiched between my teenage sons.

* * *

Two weeks later, the boys were on February break. Yesterday, we had toured Yale and Vassar, and today, we toured Columbia and NYU. February was not the best time to show Manhattan at its finest, but we still enjoyed ourselves. At Columbia, I took the boys around Morningside Heights, showing them where their mother and I lived after we got married, and took them to the Hungarian Pastry Shop for snacks. Ari loved New York City, and was very enthusiastic about Columbia - I also think he liked that it was where Deb and I met, and he thought he had a better chance of getting in because of that.

After stopping at a shop at 109th and Broadway to stock up on bagels, at Elio's request, we piled into the car and drove to Princeton.

"I think Columbia was my favorite so far," Ari said. "I can definitely see myself living in New York City for four years. And there's an actual campus, unlike NYU."

"Keep an open mind," I told him, as we sat in traffic on the George Washington Bridge. "I loved Columbia when I was there, but I also loved Harvard as an undergrad. Plus, at Harvard, you'd be so close to your brother and me!"

"Add one to the pro list for Columbia: Dad can't stop by to say hi without a five hour drive."

As we sat in standstill traffic, I asked Ari to take my phone, so I could keep my hands on the wheel in case we started moving, and dial Elio to let him know that we were running late.

"Where's his number, dad? It's not in your phone," he said, looking through my contacts. I had forgotten that his name was saved as "Oliver".

"That's weird, maybe it got deleted by accident?" I said. Not the time to explain our pet names.

"Don't worry Dad, I just texted him and told him," Vic said. It was still incredibly weird,but also touching, how often my son spoke with Elio.

We were going to spend the next three nights in Princeton, under Elio's insistence. Tomorrow morning, Ari and I were going to take an official campus tour of Princeton while Vic went with Elio to his morning lecture. Then, Elio would show us around the campus, take Ari into dorms and libraries, things you don't get to see on the tour. After lunch, we were going to drive down to Pennsylvania and take a tour of Haverford, and then drive back to Elio's condo. On the third day, it was back to Philly, for a tour of the University of Pennsylvania, then to Swarthmore. The following morning, we were off to northeastern Pennsylvania, to tour both Lehigh and Lafayette, before the long drive back home. We were packing in the tours, which would overwhelm Ari and bore Vic, but we needed to fit in as much as we could this week since we couldn’t do the tours leisurely over the summer.

Eventually, we made it to Elio's place. He greeted me at the door with a warm, but platonic, hug, given my children’s presence. "Hi! Come in, come in, it's cold outside and it's going to snow soon," he said.

"We're from Boston, we can handle snow, Ari said, stepping inside. He offered his hand to Elio. "I'm Ari. We've never officially met," he said. Elio shook his hand, smiling. Ari handed Elio the bag of bagels.

"It's nice to meet you, Ari. Vic has told me a lot about you. Oh, the best bagels in New York City! Thank you!" Vic came in behind Ari, lugging both of their bags. Of course Ari took the very light bag of bagels, and forced his brother to carry all of the luggage. "Vic! It's good to see you again!" Elio exclaimed, beckoning him over for a long hug. "Here, let me help you with your things, and I'll show you around."

Elio grabbed a suitcase and gave us a brief tour of the condo. We dropped the boys' things in the guest bedroom on the first floor, where the boys would be sharing the king sized bed, and Elio showed me where his bedroom was. "This is my room. You'll be sleeping in here, and I'll take the pull out couch in the basement."

"Elio, this is ridiculous. I can sleep on the couch. This is all too much," I said, putting down my own bags.

"Nonsense. I have this entire place to myself. It'll be nice to have company for a few days. Anyway, your feet would hang over the edge of the couch, you're too tall for it," he said with a chuckle.

"Well, we appreciate everything."

The boys went downstairs to settle in and unpack, and I sat down at Elio's desk, unpacking my laptop. "It's really good to see you, Elio." He came closer to the desk, leaning over the edge with one arm. He was wearing a tight-fitting V-neck cobalt blue colored sweater and slim fit khakis - he looked so handsome. His hair had grown a bit since I'd last seen him, and his curls were hanging over his eyes and ears. I wanted to run my fingers through the soft ringlets. "You're looking good," I said with a faint smile.

"You look fantastic," he said coyly.

"I like your hair like this, it's the longest I've seen it."

"Thanks. Mostly, I'm too lazy to cut it, but I like the way it gets curlier and springier the longer it gets. Means I have to cut it less often."

I took a deep breath. I wanted to clear the air now, and to not get his hopes up, but also put up a wall to stop myself. As much as I wanted to be with him, it couldn't happen this week. The anniversary of Deb's death had only served to remind me that I was still not ready to commit to anything, that I would only wind up hurting him. "I... Elio, I'm still not ready. For us. You know that, right?"

He nodded. "I'm here for you. As a friend, as an ear, as a confidante. Whatever you need me to be, I’ll be. I just want to help you, I don't expect anything in return," he said, but I could tell he was disappointed. "I will give you as much time as you need, I would never pressure you to do something you didn't feel ready for."

"Thank you," I said. I had to moderate my self control, keep my hands off of him this week. It would be best for us both.

"So, once you're all settled in, I was thinking I could take you guys out for Indian food and some ice cream? Vic mentioned how much you all love it, and we have a fantastic ice cream shop in town. We can make it an early night and then go to the university in the morning," Elio said. I was thankful he didn't linger on what I had told him. Reminded me of when I rejected his last advance at the berm, how he bounced right back.

"That sounds great," I said. We soon corralled the boys, loaded into Elio's car, and drove to the restaurant he selected. Over dosas, samosas, mango lassis, and more saag paneer and aloo gobi than we knew what to do with, we talked about Ari's college plans, Vic's school orchestra, the classes Elio and I were teaching, and how _The Departed_ was definitely going to win Best Picture at the Oscars the next week.

"I understand why it's going to win, and I really liked it, but I'm rooting for _Little Miss Sunshine_ ," Ari said.

"Scorsese will win best director for sure, even if it's not his best film, they'll be rewarding his whole career. Can you believe he's never won before?" Elio asked.

Elio and Ari dominated the conversation about films, since they were both big fans of cinema. "I can't wait until I turn seventeen next month, then Dad won't have to buy my tickets to rated R movies and I can just go by myself," Ari said, tearing himself a piece of naan, steam rising from the bread as he ripped into it.

“I hope you’ll still go to the movies with me, even if I don’t have to legally buy your ticket,” I said to him.

“I’m just kidding, Dad. I love our movie nights.”

Elio asked Vic specific questions about his school work and mentioned his band teacher, Mr. O'Connor, by name. I wish I was privy to their emails and texts, but I didn't want to betray my son's confidence, or Elio's. They had fallen into such a fast friendship, it was really nice to watch them interact.

After dinner, we got ice cream and took a walk around downtown, the street lights giving the sparse snowflakes a glittery effect. "I don't care that it's snowing, this is still perfect ice cream weather," Vic said, voraciously licking the cone.

I tightened my scarf as I lapped at my own strawberry ice cream. I watched Elio in his charcoal peacoat, a few paces ahead of me, in a kelly green knit beanie, sipping his vanilla milkshake. "This is the downtown area, we're not too far from campus," Elio said. "It’s a cute town, the college kids have tons of fun. We'll see the campus tomorrow in daylight."

Elio drove us back to his place, and the boys changed into pajamas, exhausted from the day. "We're going to go to bed, we'll see you in the morning," Ari said with an exaggerated yawn, arms stretched above his head.

"Good night Dad, good night Elio! Thanks for dinner!" Vic said.

"G'nite. Be up and dressed by 8:30 so we can get to the campus before Elio's 9:30 lecture."

After the boys went into the guest bedroom and shut the door, Elio said, "Fancy a nightcap? I have some whiskey with your name on it."

"Sounds perfect," I said, following him into the kitchen on the opposite side of the house from where we stood.

I sat at the table as he filled two old-fashioned glasses with ice, and then with whiskey. Elio handed me a glass, sat down next to me, and offered his glass in a toast. "Salute," he said.

"L'chaim," I said in return, clinking my glass with his.

We sipped in silence for a bit. Eventually, we fell into an easy banter. I told him about Ari's play, about the book I'd be writing this summer, about how difficult the anniversary of Deb's death was on us. He caught me up on the latest in Italy. Marzia was now married and had an adorable three year old. He opened his wallet and showed me a picture of Noemie. "You and Marzia are still close?"

"She's my best friend. I was actually the maid of honor, or well, man of honor, at her wedding. Thierry is shockingly okay with our history, but he's French. It took her a little while to fully forgive me for abandoning her for you that summer, but deep down, she understood what I was going through, and how I felt about you."

"Is there anyone in your life who doesn't know about us?" I asked, taking another sip.

"Not really. If you can't tell, I wear my heart on my sleeve. Also, when you left... I was devastated, and barely left my room for days. Then, after you visited that winter and said you were engaged, I... I kind of dropped out of everything for a while - I slumped into a pretty bad depression until I left for college. Everyone who didn’t already know figured it out pretty quickly."

I hadn't known about that. I felt horrible for what I did to him. How could I show my face in Italy after hurting Elio that badly? "I don't think I can ever really forgive myself for how much I hurt you. It's not a consolation, but I was hurting, too."

"It's okay, I was able to move on with my life. It's been a pretty good life, so far," he said.

"It was just all so overwhelming back then, I was so immature and let the world get to me. You were so young, and I couldn't let you make life decisions because of me. I didn’t want to hold you back. You needed to have your own life experiences, and at the time, I just couldn't... I didn't think I'd be able to..." I didn't know how to put it into words. "I think I was too scared to be in public with you, with a man." This was the first time I'd said it out loud.

"I understood all that, eventually. I like living my life proudly, as my parents taught me to do. I am who I am, and people and society can take it or leave it. A recent boyfriend took me to visit his family in Mexico when his grandmother was ill, but hadn't come out to them, so I had to pretend to just be his friend when his family was around. After that, I told myself that I don't want to do that anymore, I can't hide," he said, finishing off his whiskey and pouring himself another. "Can I top you off?" he asked giving me more of the liquor as well.

"That's one thing I admire about you. You've always been so unapologetically you."

"That said, if you wanted to... If you were ready... I would gladly do whatever you needed me to do. I'd give up any of my strongly held convictions for you. You are worth every sacrifice."

I blinked a few times, trying to prevent my eyes from tearing up. "Elio, I would never, ever ask you to do that. If or when I'm ready... to date again, to be intimate again... I'm done hiding. Deb's death taught me that life is short, and I need to be open about who I am. Anyway, I would never want to hide something like that from my boys, to hide you. I would have to tell them at the very least. "

Elio nodded, giving me a sad look. I knew what he wanted from me, and it was what I wanted from him, but I just couldn't give it to him yet.

"It's getting late, I should start getting ready for bed so I can take the Ari on the tour and Vic to your lecture tomorrow," I said, getting out of my seat.

"Good night, Oliver," he said, taking the empty glasses and loading his dishwasher.

I went up to his bedroom, changed into my pajamas, and thought about what we had talked about. Could I be in a public relationship with him? Could I tell my friends, colleagues, family, that I was with a man? I'd been lying to myself, hiding for my entire life. Was I too ashamed of who I was, of what I wanted?

In the 80s, aside from rampant homophobia, it was actually unsafe for me to be with men. With the AIDS crisis looming, thousands of gay and bisexual men contacting the virus and dying, it was just easier to be with women. Same sex couples were beaten, were discriminated against, and I was afraid. That’s not to say I didn’t sleep with men, but I was cautious. Elio was the only person I had ever truly fallen for. He was also the only one I hadn't used protection with. But times were different now. HIV was still omnipresent, but we now had better tools to protect ourselves. Homophobia still existed, but it was much simpler to be in a same sex relationship. My own state even legalized same sex marriage. Still, old habits die hard, and I had four decades of internalized homophobia to work through.

I couldn't sleep, so I took a book out of my bag ( _The Corrections_ by Jonathan Franzen, which I'd somehow never gotten to before), put on my reading glasses, and laid down to read.

I soon heard a knock on the door. “Oliver, do you mind if I grab something in here for a second?” Elio whispered.

“Come in, go ahead,” I said.

Elio tiptoed in the room. He had already changed into his pajamas. “I forgot to take my toothbrush to the downstairs bathroom. Mind if I brush my teeth in here?” he asked, pointing at the master bathroom.

“This is your room, take whatever you need, take your time,” I said, watching the way his pants framed his ass as he went into the bathroom. He came out a few minutes later, and smiled at me.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said. “Gives you the distinguished, professor vibe.”

“Good thing I’m a distinguished professor, then,” I replied with a smirk.

Elio sat on the corner of the bed and said, “It’s probably good that none of my professors looked like you. I may not have passed my classes, I’d have been way too distracted.”

I took my glasses off and put my book down. “I’m sure there are plenty of students with crushes on you. Your office hours must be packed.”

“Usually, but mostly just with grade grubbers who want to know why I gave them an A-minus instead of an A. Though I did once have a student write her phone number underneath a lipstick print in her final exam. I pretended I never saw that,” he said, laughing.

“No exchanging lewd text messages with her, then,” I asked, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, last person I did that with was you,” Elio said, scooting closer.

"So, on the drive here, I handed Ari my phone to call you, and I realized I hadn't deleted that conversation. Thankfully, he didn't go to my text messages," I said.

Elio laughed. "That might have haunted him for life. No one wants to see their parents as sexual creatures."

"I had also forgotten, in the moment, what you had saved your name as, so he couldn’t find your number.” I turned on my side and pat the bed next to me, encouraging Elio to lay alongside me while we spoke. “The way we talked, in those texts, reminded me of the time we had a picnic at the berm and decided that we couldn’t touch each other until we got back into our bed that night. Instead, you just told me everything you wished you were doing to me at that moment. I was so unbearably turned on that afternoon.”

“We barely made it to the bed when we got back. I think I came more times that evening than I ever have before, or since. That was a really, really good day,” he said, smiling.

“But you’ve had quite the exciting sex life since then? Art dealers, professors, Mexican vacations.”

“None have lasted that long, but yes. I’ve had some fun, but not as much fun as I had with you,” he said, lying on one arm and facing me.

“Tell me some stories. I want to know what you’ve been up to, the interesting things, not your professional resume. We’ve already talked about that. How many people have you slept with?”

“Is it bad to say that I’ve lost count? In college, I mostly slept with women, but would have very careful one night stands with men. Though I did date a guy during part of my senior year, and you’re going to laugh at this, a graduate student at Yale, named… Elliott Perelman.”

“Elio Perlman and Elliott Perelman. Did he look like you, too? Tall, sexy, kissable lips, dark curly hair?”

“He had dark curly hair, anyway. He was short and a bit round. He was nice, but not too exciting in bed. He teaches at Northwestern now. But salacious stories… hmm… Mafalda once walked in on me when I was going down on Marzia. She dropped the laundry she was carrying and ran as far away as she could. After that, Marzia got off on fucking in public places, trying to tempt the fates again.”

“You dated Marzia again?” I asked.

“Oh, no. We would just fool around when we were drunk or high or bored and both single. It was never anything serious, just fun, meaningless sex. Except for the one pregnancy scare, which thankfully was just a scare. I did NOT want to be a father at twenty-two. Other than that, I don’t think I ever accidentally impregnated anyone.”

“Have you mostly dated men or women?”

“A mix. I’d say I’m generally more interested in men, particularly of the tall, blond and Oliver variety, but I’ve had plenty of lovers of both sexes. This one woman I dated a few years ago, after I told her that I also dated men, she was very into pegging. She wasn’t particularly good at it, so it did nothing for me...”

“Deb once asked me if that was something I wanted her to do for me, given my interest in men. I told her no, I didn’t want her to do anything she felt uncomfortable with. In any case, you’re the only person who’s ever… been inside me.”

“Well, I’m honored,” Elio said, running his soft, long fingers along my cheek. “What about the other men you’ve slept with?”

“In college, grad school, anyone I slept with usually assumed I was a top. With you, everything was different. After you, I never wanted to bottom for anyone,” I said, taking his hand.

“There were men after me? You cheated on your wife?” Elio asked with a frown.

“Not exactly. We had a slightly open relationship, she established the rules, and I was fine following it. I was allowed to sleep with men as long as it never interfered with the boys’ lives, that I was never home late, never formed a serious relationship with anyone, that I told her about it after. In exchange, she could also sleep with other men with the same restrictions. Mine were mostly one night stands during conferences. I was always safe, got tested regularly, but it was meaningless. They weren’t you.”

“Oliver…” he whispered, squeezing my hand. “We had something really special, didn’t we.”

“I want you so badly, Elio.”

“Then why can’t we be together? I’m here, you can have me. All of me, take me. Do whatever you wish with me,” he pleaded.

“I can’t just have a one night, or three night stand with you, Elio. It’ll hurt too much to leave you,” I told him.

“It doesn’t have to be just that. I want to commit to you. Give you everything I can,” he said, tears in his eyes. “I lost you once, I never want to lose you again.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either, but how are we going to be together? You live here. I live up by Boston. We’re both in tenure-track positions. Are we going to do long distance until we retire?”

“I’ll move up there for you, I’ll quit my job. I don’t care. I just want you.”

“Elio, you can’t give up your whole career for me. You’re so talented and special, you can’t just leave Princeton.”

“I know… it’s not fair,” he said, putting his head on the pillow and staring at me. “You came back into my life and I still can’t have you.”

I moved my body closer to him, pressing my forehead against his and wrapping my arms around him. I pressed my lips to his forehead, gently kissing him. “I know myself, if I let myself go tonight, I won’t be able to stop, and things will be bad when I leave in a few days.”

He nodded, and turned his head, facing away from me. “I should go downstairs and go to bed, we have to get up early,” he said to me.

“No, stay, please,” I asked. “Stay with me tonight. This is your bed.”

“It is my bed. I’ll stay,” he said, and I smiled at him. Elio turned around to shut off the light, and pressed his body to mine. Immediately, we found our old position, with my arm around him, pressing my body against his back. I thought about the last time we were like this, our last night in Rome, how we slept like this for two weeks that summer. I was either his big spoon or his pillow. Either iteration was desirable.

I closed my eyes, holding Elio tightly, not wanting to let go. I buried my face in his hair, which smelled like lavender and vanilla. We both ignored my telltale erection, which was pressing against his behind. I wanted to kiss his neck, nuzzle against him, give him everything I had, but I held back.

I woke up in the middle of the night, my arm still around Elio, who was snoring quietly. I repositioned us into a more comfortable configuration, so that he was sleeping on my chest, pulled the blanket over us, and fell back asleep, wishing I could have this every night.

When I woke up to my alarm, Elio was already gone, and I assumed he had slipped out of bed and regretted spending the night next to me. After showering, I went downstairs, and found the boys at the kitchen table with Elio, who was making nutella crepes for my sons. “Good morning!” Elio said cheerfully. I smiled warmly at him, and he handed me a crepe.

My doubt was for naught. After I toured school after school, we spent the next two nights sleeping the same way. Elio would come into his bedroom after the boys went to bed, we would talk for hours, and then spoon as we fell asleep. Both mornings, I woke up to Elio’s head on my chest or stomach, arm around me, our legs intertwined. This summer was going to be torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued comments and kudos! Your comments mean everything to me, so keep them coming :)
> 
> I hope you liked this one! We're very quickly getting to Italy, when everyone is going to be in the same place for two months.
> 
> The unveiling ceremony in Judaism is much smaller than a funeral - it's usually just the close/immediate family. It's usually done between 6-12 months after the death. A sheet is placed over the gravestone, a rabbi (or someone with a prayer book, I think it doesn't have to be a rabbi) says a few blessings, then you pull the sheet off, literally unveiling the gravestone. I honestly do not understand the religious significance of the ceremony, but I've had a lot of family die in the past decade and have been to a lot of them now. Also, whenever you go to a Jewish cemetery, it is customary to place a rock or a stone on the grave, instead of flowers. Something about how flowers and other organic materials can die and decompose, but stones/pebbles/rocks are permanent.
> 
> On the Unorthodox Podcast from Tablet Magazine a few weeks ago, Andre Aciman talks about living on the Upper West Side, and the podcast hosts joke about getting recognized at the Hungarian Pastry Shop. I had written this chapter before I heard this episode, but it's fate. <https://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/268054/unorthodox-episode-146-andre-aciman-kevin-begos>
> 
> I've decided as a character quirk, that the Morgenstern men love their ice cream. It started accidentally, then I noticed that I kept writing about them eating ice cream, so it stuck. Guess it comes from the fact that I named them after an ice cream shop in NYC? Maybe I just really want some ice cream?


	15. The Cool Dad

_**POV: Ari, February 22, 2007/March 2007** _

During the last night of our stay at Elio’s place in Princeton, Vic and I pretended to go to bed early again, to give Dad and Elio more time alone. If my dad was going to date a guy, I approved of Elio, and Vic definitely loved him. He was incredibly smart, and he was really good to my brother. When we walked around the Princeton campus, he made sure to point out things he thought Vic or I would enjoy, including random historical tidbits and information about where students get up to slightly nefarious activities. I think my dad told him I liked to smoke pot on occasion.

Vic and I tried to keep out of their way, when we could. Dad and Elio seemed to really enjoy each other’s company. Their conversation was constantly flowing, and the sexual tension was obvious, though I think they were both trying to fight it. Elio was always looking at Dad, smiling at him and watching his every move, and I could have sworn that when Elio got up from our table at lunch to go use the restroom, Dad was subtly checking out his ass. I knew that move, I did the same thing when a hot girl walked by me.

As we stayed in the room, pretending to be asleep, we instead watched some episodes of _Lost_  that I had torrented on my laptop. Halfway through our third episode, my laptop beeped, and it was about to die. “Shit,” I said. “I think the charger is in Dad’s bag.”

“I’ll go sneak into Elio’s room and go find it,” Vic offered. He came back a few minutes later, charger in hand, panicking. “Ari! Oh my god! ARI!" He took a few nervous staccatoed breaths. "Dad and Elio were SLEEPING TOGETHER!”

“Yuck, Vic, you walked in on Dad fucking Elio? Ewwwwww. **EWWWWWWWW**.” I had heard my parents through the wall once when I was younger, and it was scarring. Seeing Dad and Elio kiss when they didn’t know we were hiding in the closet was bad enough (and I think Elio grabbed Dad's crotch then), I could only imagine how damaging actually seeing your father have sex could be.

“No, they weren’t having sex, they were sleeping next to each other. They were asleep in Elio’s bed, and Dad was spooning Elio. They looked so peaceful and happy.”

I thought about it for a moment and smirked. “Good! I think our plan is progressing perfectly,” I said with a sly smile. “You sure they were happy?”

“Yes, Dad was holding Elio tightly, and their legs were tangled. I only looked briefly, I grabbed the charger and ran, but he just seemed so content, like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted.”

“Do you think they did have sex tonight? Ugh, I don’t want to think about that,” I said.

“No, it seemed more innocent than that. Their pajamas were on. They were just cuddling. It seemed romantic.”

* * *

Three weeks later, I turned seventeen. I had a small party at the house, invited some friends over, nothing big. I didn't have a rager with kegs like Tyler Donnelly did for his seventeenth.

When Paige and I were making out in my bedroom during the party, she let me take her shirt and bra off, and see her boobs, those perfectly perky D-cups she keeps hidden with a minimizing bra. I never realized how big her chest was, and it was glorious. I know women complain about back pain from their boobs, but damn, she should be proud of those and not try to hide them. While we kissed, I squeezed her breasts, one in each hand, gently running my thumb along her erect nipples, which made her moan into my mouth. I was very, very turned on, and she rubbed my hardness through my jeans. I could get used to this. This was a great gift. We didn’t really go any further than that, though, especially with my Dad and brother and our friends in the house.

Caleb Warner brought some pot that his older brother bought at college, so we all got high in the backyard, and then went inside to eat pizza and ice cream cake, drink the two six-packs of beer Dad bought for us, and play video games. Dad said we could only drink the beer if we had enough designated drivers - if not, everyone would have to leave their keys with him and he would drive everyone home, and they could have their parents drop them off to get their cars in the morning. Noah Weiss and Madison Anderson took the bullet and promised my dad they wouldn't drink or smoke.

Overall, it was a pretty great birthday. I got to second base, got high, got drunk, and got to a new level in my video game.

* * *

The next day, Dad took me for what was hopefully our last driving lesson, as my road test was the following morning.

I was getting pretty good at this whole driving thing. I could make left and right turns, highway driving was suddenly a breeze, and I could even parallel park without damaging the car.

“Thanks for the party yesterday, Dad. I had a really good time,” I said, as we drove around the neighborhood.

“I could tell - I could smell the pot from my office,” he said in a good natured way.

“You know I only smoke pot, right? And drink beer or liquor occasionally - obviously you knew that, you buy my alcohol. I’d never do any real drugs, or smoke cigarettes,” I said, to reassure my father.

“I know, I trust you. I'm a cool dad. Just don’t let alcohol or pot get in the way of your studies,” Dad said. “You know that I smoked quite a bit in my day at Harvard and Columbia. I used to be fun.”

“I’m sure you could still have fun if you wanted. I actually had some fun yesterday. Paige and I snuck off for a bit and made out. Well, did a little bit more than make out. She let me see and touch her boobs. Holy cow, she is hot,” I said. Dad did say he wanted us to talk to him about this stuff. “Did you know her boobs are even bigger than they look? She wears a bra to hide it.”

Dad laughed. “My offer to buy you condoms still stands, I want you to enjoy yourself, but I want you to be safe. And I definitely do not want to be a 44-year-old grandfather.”

“Dad, I promise I’ll tell you when I’m ready to have sex. I can buy my own condoms. I’ll have to do that in college, anyway,” I said, making a three point turn on a dead-end street and going back the reverse direction. “I’ve been thinking about college more. Columbia was still my favorite, but I liked Princeton a lot, too. That was really nice of Elio to take us around campus and let us stay with him for a few days.”

“It was,” Dad said. “The Perlmans have always been so generous to our family, Elio is no exception.”

It was time to get the details. I told him details of my love life, he could give me information about his. It was now or never. “When we were walking around campus, I think Elio was checking you out,” I said. “He kept smiling at you and watching your every move, the same way Cody Himmelstein has been drooling over Tiffany Weintraub and eye-fucking her since Hebrew school.”

Dad shrugged, not saying anything for a moment. “Maybe you were misreading things, we’re old friends,” he said.

“Are you sure, Dad? I… I think he likes you. A lot.”

He scratched his head, and took a deep breath. I knew what he was hiding, I was just waiting for him to tell me. “He does like me.”

“Dad… do you like him, too?”

“Of course I like him, he’s a great guy, and we’ve been friends for years.”

“That’s not what I meant, Dad. You and Elio kept having these moments, where it seemed like you were having a silent conversation between the two of you. Do you **LIKE** him?”

Dad ran his fingers through his hair nervously. I pulled over and parallel parked the car (quite well, I might add), so I could talk to my dad without the road as a distraction.

“I… yes. I do like him. I like him a lot,” he said, cheeks turning pink.

I nodded at my father, and turned to face him. “Oh, Dad. That’s great, Elio is so nice.” I tried to figure out what to say next, to sound supportive, but also get more information. “It’s okay that you like him, I’m cool with it. Vic loves him, and would be thrilled.”

Dad unbuckled his seatbelt so he could angle closer to me. “I appreciate that. I don’t know if anything will happen, if I want anything to happen. He lives so far away. We have a complicated history.”

“What kind of history?” I asked warmly, trying to let my dad know that he could open up to me.

“I… we… Elio and I… were together, for the last few weeks I worked for Sammy. I’m sorry, if this is weird for you, I can stop,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“No, it’s okay, I want to know. It’s totally cool that you were with a man, I understand. Sexuality is fluid. You raised us to accept anyone for who they are, and that gay, straight, neither, everything is normal, the same should apply to you. Tell me about that summer. Why did you end things?”

“Thank you, Ari,” he said, hugging me. “Elio and I, what we had, was special. In the end, we only had two weeks together, but they meant everything to me and to him. I tried to fight my attraction to him, at first. I was working for his father, he was male, he was seventeen…”

“Wait, Elio was seventeen when you were together!” That was kind of… I wasn’t sure what to make of that. That was my age.

Dad hung his head in shame. “That was the hardest hurdle for me. I wasn't trying to fall for a teenager. He was older than the age of consent in most places, including in Italy. He was wise beyond his years, and the Perlmans supported us, but, he was still so young. Still, we fell fast, and hard. When I left him that summer, I knew we couldn’t continue. I couldn’t let him make life decisions, like where to go to college, because of me. He had to have his own experiences, discover who he was, grow, without me holding him back. I didn't want him to look back on anything and feel like he missed out on something because of me. I regret not letting him be a part of that choice, but it was what I had to do.

“Also, I was, am still, if I'm being honest with myself, struggling with internalized homophobia. You don't know what it was like back then, times were different. You had to hide your attraction to men, we were told that it was terrible and unnatural. It wasn't safe, and people were cruel. And if I came home from Italy with a boyfriend, I'm pretty sure your grandfather would have never spoken to me again, that he would have forced the whole family to disown me. He was so strict and old fashioned - I mean, I already didn't fit into what he wanted for me, he was angry that I didn't become a doctor or a lawyer. Can you imagine what he would have done if I brought Elio home? He might have actually murdered me, or him. It was a hard decision to make, but it felt right at the time. Also, if I hadn't left Italy, left Elio, and married your mother, we wouldn't have had you boys, and you and your brother are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. As many regrets as I have from the past, you are not one, and any path that gave me my sons was ultimately the one worth taking."

"Dad... Are you... Do you... Are you gay? There's nothing wrong with it if you are, and I know labels are stupid, but, given your story..."

Dad shook his head. "No. I'm attracted to both men and women. I guess you could say that I'm bisexual. I've never said that out loud before."

I have my father a hug and he rested his head on my shoulder. "You know I love you no matter what, right? I don't care who you want to be with, as long as they're a good person. I just want you to be happy."

"You're amazing, Ari."

I signed heavily. "Were you in... Did you love mom? Did you cheat on her that summer with Elio?"

"Ari, I loved your mother more than anything. She was my best friend, and she was the perfect wife and mother. We had broken up before Italy, and we got back together soon after I returned. I told her about Elio, we were open with each other about everything. She knew what happened, how I felt, but she also knew how I felt about her."

"Have you dated other men besides Elio?" I asked. If he was being open, I think I wanted to know everything.

"No. I wouldn't call what Elio and I did 'dating', either. We were just... together. I can't label it because it's different than anything I've ever experienced before or since. I've... slept with men, but Elio is the only man I've ever had strong feelings for like that." I've never seen his cheeks get so pink before, but I appreciated his candor, even if this was the most awkward conversation we've ever had in my life, including the time he tried to tell me about masturbation and encourage my "healthy self-exploration".

"Dad... Do you think Elio would make you happy now? Do you want to be with him? Vic and I would support you if you did."

"I don't know, Ari. I've been so depressed and in such an emotional slump since your mother died, that I don't think I'm ready for anything yet. Not to mention, he lives five hours away from here, and long distance is very hard. We've both changed a lot in the past twenty years, we barely know each other anymore. I hurt him so much back then, it took him years to recover, and I can't do that to him again."

"Who's to say you'll hurt him? I saw how he looks at you, I think he wants to be with you," I said, touching Dad's shoulder.

"Maybe one day, but I can't do that now."

"We should get going, I need to practice everything for the road test one more time if I'm going to pass and get my license tomorrow," I said with a sniffle.

Dad opened the glove compartment and took out a few tissues, handing one to me. He dabbed at his eyes, wiping away a stray tear. "You're right, we should get going," he said. "It felt really good to talk about all of this with you, I'm glad we can be honest with each other. Can you keep it between us for now, though? I'll talk to your brother about this when we're both ready."

"Of course, Dad," I said with a smile. We buckled our seatbelts and went back on the road.

* * *

 The following day, Dad pulled me out of school early for my road test, which I passed with flying colors. I was now a licensed driver in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

That night, Vic and I played Wii Sports in the living room. Dad went back to school for a faculty meeting, and had left us money to order dinner. We were waiting for the sushi delivery guy.

I flicked my wrist, aiming the bowling ball at the pins. "I talked to Dad yesterday, about Elio," I said.

Vic swung his arm in an exaggerated motion, still figuring out how to play the game. "You did? What did he say?"

"Nothing we didn't already assume, but he just confirmed details. He told me not to tell you, so when he talks to you about it at some point in time, pretend like you never knew."

"I can do that. So? What were the details?" Vic asked.

"Okay, so... He said that he and Elio were together the last few weeks of the summer he worked for the Perlmans. He and Mom had split up before the summer, so he wasn't cheating on her when he was there. He said that what he had with Elio was special, and that he's never had that with anyone before or since."

"I knew it," Vic said. "They're still in love. They both want to be with each other, so why are they fighting it?"

"Strike! Yes! Sorry... because Dad is the most stubborn person we've ever met. Also, I think he's afraid to come out. He said he's bi, you were right about that, and that he loved mom very much. I think he's afraid to publicly be with a man. He's afraid of what other people will think or say."

"He needs to work through that on his own, doesn't he."

"Probably, but we can nudge them together this summer. We'll have to work on that once we're in Italy," I said.

"Oof, seven ten split, I don't think I'm going to be able to knock them both over," Vic said, biting his lip, figuring out his next shot. "We have a lot of work ahead of us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now, Oliver has told Ari about his history with Elio/with men. Not that he didn't already know, but it'll make the boys push even harder once they get to Italy.
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying this story - let me know what you think! Thank you all for your support/comments.
> 
> I've been thinking about adding chapter summaries going forward/editing previous chapters to include them. Do you think the story needs them?


	16. Too Hungover to Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another epistolary chapter. This one is a series of emails Oliver sent to Elio, and then their text conversation the next morning. Enjoy!

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>  
Subject: Your concert  
Sent: Saturday, April 7, 2007, 11:35PM

Hey Elio,

How did your performance with your masters students at Lincoln Center go? I wish I could have been there to see it. Please let us know if you're performing somewhere in New England, and I'd be there in a heartbeat.

Did you see the pictures that Vic posted on Facebook from our college tours? Ari still won't accept my friend request, but Vic added me immediately when he joined. It's crazy how different my boys are from each other. There's a really nice one of just the two of us. I love how rosy your cheeks look from the cold, and how cozy you look in your hat and scarf. This is the only picture I have of the two of us, I wish we had pictures from that summer. All I have is the postcard from Rome and the one I stole from your bedroom. I've been thinking about printing and framing this picture of us for my home office, but I think I would never get any work done if I had a picture of you staring at me. I also think the boys would relentlessly torture me for printing a picture from the internet. Apparently you're not supposed to do that.

I've been thinking a lot about Princeton, and the time we spent together. I've missed sleeping next to you, letting our breath sync up, feeling your pulse and heartbeat under my arms, stealing your body heat for warmth. Thank you for ignoring the undeniable evidence pressing against you that I was hopelessly, desperately desiring you. I’m sorry I couldn’t act on it. I just can't do that yet.

I made myself a Manhattan or two this evening, so maybe it's the liquor talking, but I have to tell you that I'm worried about Italy. I'm worried that I'm going to want you to sleep in my arms each night. I'm worried that I'm going to fall further and further off the deep end, and I won't be able to stop myself from touching you. How I've dreamed of massaging your sinewy shoulders, of sinking my teeth into your abdomen and leaving a mark that only you and I know is there, of squeezing that delectable rear while you squeal in delight. I can feel my self control waning. I don't trust myself around you.

I haven't stopped thinking about you since we kissed at the Bar Mitzvah (that's not entirely true. I haven't stopped thinking about you for 20 years). You drive me crazy, Elio. It's how I felt that summer, it's how I felt in February, it's how I feel right now. I will always feel this way, I've always felt this way. My body and my mind are in a constant battle - my body is craving you, and I don't know how long I'll be able to fight it.

I still need to heal, I need to be good, but one bat of those long eyelashes, one wave of that soft, gentle hand, and I'll crumple and submit to you. You can have me any way you want.

I'm so lonely, Elio, and I just want you, and only you, to fill that void, to fill me.

-Oliver

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>  
Subject: Re: Your concert  
Sent: Sunday, April 8, 2007, 12:06AM

I'm just sipping whiskey now. Didn't feel like mixing myself another drink.

Fuck, I'm so horny, Elio. I want you so badly.

Why do you live so far away from me? Why didn't I let you touch me when we were sleeping next to each other a few weeks ago? I was so stupid, I'm still stupid. You were next to me, begging for me, and I did nothing. I'm a coward.

If I was sober, I would hop into my car and drive down to you. Or tell you to meet me halfway, somewhere in Connecticut maybe. We could get a seedy motel that rents by the hour, be as loud and lewd as we want, and be very thankful that we're not the ones who need to clean the room after.

Fuuuuuuuuck.

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>   
Subject: Re: Your concert  
Sent: Sunday, April 8, 2007, 12:42AM

Whiskey tastes gooood. I don't know why Ari alwyas goes for vdoka or gin or shitty beeer, whiskey is where it's atttt.

Wen we r at the villa, I am going to tearr your clothes off and fuck you fro hours. On our bed. Agnsaits a wall. On the desk. I want it all. I sound like a pornographic dr Seuss book rhgitht now. But still, I wnat you on your piano. In the shiower. In the lake. In haevven. At the berrm.

Buttttt not onlyy that. I want u to take mee eveyr which way you can. Bend me over a chiar. Defile me on the kichen table. Fuck fuck fuck. I want you. I need yuo.

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>   
Subject: Re: Your concert  
Sent: Sunday, April 8, 2007, 1:24AM

You porbablyy don't even watn me aynmore. You thinnk I'm an old, weathered, washedd up, closeted, pathheitc lsoer.

I'm srri=oy I'm bothering you. I'll lesve you alone.

* * *

To: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.edu>   
Subject: Re: Your concert  
Sent: Sunday, April 8, 2007, 2:12AM

Im not sorruy. i want you, and I thujink you want mee. I nkiwo you want me. Whyyyyyyyyyyy is it omly Aopriul? Why is it not June, wen I can fall alseep with u on mi chest or in my armd after a nihgt of passuionate love making. Or a night of fukcing. But wiht yuou it alwa6ys felt lioke motre than fucking. It was fuckking special. We werere fucking specailk.

* * *

Text Conversation between Oliver and Elio, Sunday, April 8, 2007, 8AM.

**_hey, are you awake?_ **

**_if you are, please delete any email I sent you last night. Gmail doesn't let you unsend._ **

**_I was very drunk, and very lonely. I'm really sorry._ **

**_fuck, I'm so hungover right now. I need to stop drinking at night by myself._ **

**_I shouldn't have sent those things to you._ **

**_I'm so, so sorry._ **

**_You hate me now, don't you._ **

**_I fucked everything up._ **

_Sorry, I was in the shower and just saw your barrage of texts._

_I... I already saw the emails, Oliver._

_I could never hate you._

**_Fuck, I'm sorry. Have I said that enough?_ **

**_I need to stop drinking alone._ **

_I figured you were drunk._

_It was funny, actually._

_You went from academic to sexy to maudlin to horny to sad to complete horndog over the course of two hours._

**_I'm so embarrassed._ **

_I liked seeing so many sides of you._

_Though I have to say... Reenacting your pornographic doctor seuss story when we're in Italy_

_I would take you up on that._

**_Alcohol doesn't excuse my behavior, but I'm sorry I was so out of line_ **

_Oliver, it’s fine._

_If I’m being honest, it turned me on._

_I can't wait to see you in Italy, spend the summer together._

_I think Mafalda might mind if I defile you on the kitchen table, though._

**_Elio…_ **

**_I can’t keep leading you on._ **

**_I’m so sorry._ **

_Stop apologizing._

_You weren't wrong. What we had WAS fucking special._

_We can have that again._

**_Everything I said in the emails,_ **

**_Alcohol made me so uninhibited_ **

**_I meant everything_ **

**_But I just… when we’re in Italy…_ **

**_We can’t._ **

_I’m trying as hard as I can to let you heal at your own pace,_

_But when you send me emails like that,_

_Emails that show that you and I definitely want the same things._

_Oliver, you’re making things very difficult for me._

**_I’m sorry, Elio._ **

**_If it’s a consolation, I did love spooning with you at your place._ **

**_I wish I could sleep like that every night._ **

_So you just want the intimacy, but not the sex?_

_Isn't that the opposite of what men usually want?_

_Everything we’ve done together has been crazily intimate, including sex,_

_But, god damn, even sleeping next to you_

_It brought me back to when we were together_

_How in sync our bodies were, how we each anticipated the other’s every move, every breath._

_When you held me, I never wanted you to let go._

**_I want all of you. Everything with you._ **

**_But I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, hurt myself, in the long run._ **

**_I think part of it,_ **

**_Deb was the last person I slept with._ **

**_The last time we had sex was a few nights before she died._ **

**_This sounds really stupid, I realize, but_ **

**_I think I don’t want you to be the first person I sleep with since my dead wife._ **

_Is that why you’ve been holding back?_

_You went straight from me to her before you got married. Unless there were others in between._

**_There weren’t._ **

**_Maybe I'm being crazy._ **

_So go out, have a one night stand with someone._

_A guy, a girl, whatever._

_Wipe the slate clean. Which sounds horrible to say, but you know what I mean._

_Just... please don't let anyone else top you._

_You said I was the only one. I want to stay the only one._

_I want to be your only one._

_**Elio.** _

_After, we can revisit us in Italy._

**_I don’t know if it’ll be that easy._ **

**_As much as I want you, I don’t know how ready I am for sex._ **

_You know that I felt how hard you were when we were spooning. You are ready._

**_I meant emotionally, goose._ **

**_My cock works just fine, thank you very much._ **

**_I need to get ready to head out, I’m taking Ari on a tour of Brown today._ **

**_We need to hit the road to Providence soon._ **

**_Thankfully, he will be doing the driving, he wants to practice long-distance drives._**

**_I am way too hungover to drive._ **

_I can tell you with no uncertainty that the drive from Brookline to Providence will take you just under an hour._

_I looked it up many, many times when I was doing my post-doc._

_It killed me, living in Providence when you were so close in the Boston area._

_Oliver. I want to be with you, and I will still wait as long as you need me to._

_If you need to emotionally or physically prepare yourself for this summer, you should do it._

_I don't mind, if it helps bring you back to me sooner._

_I’ll talk to you soon. Think about what I said._

**_I will._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this one! I'm sorry if it's going in a direction that you don't like/that makes you sad, but I PROMISE this will all lead back to a satisfying ending. It's only a brief detour. If you're waiting for the trip to Italy, it starts in Chapter 19, so we're super close! Pretty much the rest of the story will take place in Italy after that.
> 
> If you find Oliver's drunk emails hard to read, I can post the non-drunk versions of them (what I originally wrote before I tried to make it look like someone drunk was at a keyboard) - let me know and I can post those somewhere.
> 
> I can't believe how many hits the story has been getting - I'm flattered. Thank you all SO much for your continued support! I appreciate your comments :) Constructive criticism is helpful to make the story better and more coherent.


	17. Taking Elio's Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is definitely NSFW, and I'm really sorry that I had to do this (you'll see what I mean in the chapter), but it ends on a better note. This one is going to be frustrating, and Oliver is a pain, but all I can ask if that you stick with me and things might get a little better in a few chapters. I promise this is the only time that this particular NSFW thing will happen in the story (on Oliver's end)!

**_POV: Oliver, May 12-20, 2007_ **

In a little more than a month, I’d be in Italy. This month has been creeping so slowly. I kept thinking about what Elio said, that I should have meaningless sex with someone. Did he really mean that? Did he actually want my dick inside of someone who wasn’t him? I didn’t want him touching someone who wasn’t me. I wanted him all to myself.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to just get the past year of grieving and pain, confusion and guilt about my feelings for Elio, out of my system, fuck someone new, so when we were together in Italy, we might actually be able to be _together_. Could things possibly be that easy? I had already cleared one hurdle - Ari knew about Elio, about our history, and encouraged me to be with him if that was what would make me happy.

Today, Vic had an all day rehearsal at a high school in Somerville for the all-state orchestra. Their concert was in a week, so they had a full day of rehearsal today, and a full day tomorrow. Vic stayed up late all night finishing his homework for the weekend, worried he wouldn’t otherwise have time to do it.

I walked Vic to the door, helping him carry his music stand and the tenor saxophone he borrowed from his school, an instrument I didn’t know he knew how to play. As I walked back to my car, I heard someone calling my name.

“Oliver, hi! Fancy seeing you here!”

I turned around, and saw that it was my old friend, Howie Levinson. Howie was actually the Columbia friend who set Deb and me up on our first date. His wife, Jill, had been Deb’s best friend since graduate school. After Howie and Jill divorced a few years ago, Deb took Jill’s side, I had to stick with Deb, and we hadn’t really seen Howie since, aside from at Deb’s funeral.

“Howie! Hi! How are you doing?” I said, grabbing my friend into a hug. “It’s been a while!”

“I’m good! I just dropped Sabrina off for the all-state orchestra. She plays the trumpet. I assume you’re here for Vic?”

“Yep! I honestly have no idea what instrument he’s playing in this ensemble, he brought at least four with him,” I said, shrugging.

“Morgensterns, always the over-achievers. How have you been? How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. The first year after Deb’s death was rough, but we’re getting through it.”

“Hey, what are you up to right now? Want to get a drink and catch up?” he asked.

“A drink? It’s 11AM,” I said, looking at my watch.

“We could get Bloody Marys and work our way from there?” he suggested.

“Sounds good, I’ve got nothing planned until I need to pick Vic up later,” I said. “Should we go in one car?”

In the car on the way to a nearby bar, we briefly caught each other up on our lives. Howie was still teaching Jewish Studies at Brandeis, Jill was still a history professor at Boston University. Nothing much had changed beyond their having gotten divorced. They had shared custody of Sabrina and Tanner, the latter of whom was spending the day visiting his ailing grandmother with Jill.

We sat at a booth and ordered Bloody Marys. Not my favorite drink, but probably the most appropriate one for this early in the morning. I took a sip of mine and winced - too much Tabasco.

After we spoke about his classes, my classes, what our children were up to, and more, we were on our second drink. It was after noon, so I allowed myself to order a beer instead, and Howie followed suit.

“So, Oliver… it’s been well over a year that you’ve been single again. Have you gone out with anyone yet?” Howie asked, taking a gulp of his beer.

“Not really, I still don’t feel ready,” I admitted. I was a little tipsy already, and Howie had always been one of my closest friends. I hadn’t seen him in a while, and due to his precarious position in our social circle, may not run into him that often. Maybe I should just tell him everything. “There is… someone. I kissed someone.”

“Where did you meet her? Is it one of the hot single moms at your kids’ schools?” Howie asked, eyebrow raised.

“In Italy. The summer I studied there,” I said. I took a big sip of my beer and prepared myself. “And it’s a him.”

“Him? You dog! I didn’t know you swung that way, I could have tried to set you up with one of my gay friends! They don't call me 'Yenta' for nothing!” he said.

I glared at him. It wasn’t the time for a joke. “For what it’s worth, I swing both ways. But right now, I’ve only got Elio on the brain.”

“He has a name!” he said, raising his hands in the air. “Tell me about this Elio.”

I told Howie the whole story, leaving out the salacious sexual details, but filling him in on enough so he understood how I felt. I told him how Elio and I met, how we finally got together and had two weeks, how Deb knew about him and how we rushed into marriage, the kiss at the Bar Mitzvah, the texts, emails, the sleeping next to each other in Princeton. I told him about what Elio did for a living, how we were going to spend the summer in Italy, the way he and Vic had become friends. I also mentioned that Ari had figured it out, and was surprisingly okay with it.

“Ollie, dude, you’ve got it BAD for Elio.”

“I know. I’m just afraid, if we hook up or get together, that I’m only going to hurt him, or get hurt, and I don’t know if my heart can take it right now.”

Howie reached across the booth and put his hand on my arm. “Oliver, if you don’t take a risk, if you don’t try to be with him, you’re going to be hurt thinking about what could have been.”

As much as it hurt to admit, Howie was right about that.

“He sounds perfect for you. You said that he's good looking, Jewish, worldly, smart, talented, good with your son, crazy about you, you love his family. Seriously, he sounds like the total package. You’re going to be spending the summer together. Why don’t you just enjoy yourself with him and see where it leads?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave him again. It was SO difficult last time. But he lives in New Jersey, and I’m up here, and I think the distance will be painful, even if we are together,” I said, taking another sip of my beer. I hailed the waitress over - we were going to be here a while, so I ordered us some wings and nachos.

“You’ll make it work, if it’s meant to be. If not, at least you’ll have an answer,” Howie said, surprisingly sage. He then let out a very loud burp, ruining the moment entirely.

We spent the next few hours at the bar, eating more food than we could handle. We stopped drinking early on so we’d be sober enough to drive back to the school and to pick up our kids, but we kept eating and kept chatting for hours. It was nice to catch up with my friend, and I was glad to tell someone else about Elio. He was immediately receptive, and encouraged me to pursue him, so maybe it wouldn’t be as difficult as I thought to tell people about him, about us. If there still was an us.

* * *

A few days later, I was in my office, thinking about Elio once more. I stared at the postcards on my wall, and thought about our summer. I then looked up a video of him playing piano, and spent the next half hour watching video after video of Elio’s performances. As I was watching a recent one, my colleague, Jeff came into my office. “Is now a good time?” he asked.

I exited the browser and muted my speakers. “Sure. What’s up?”

“So, I apologize if this is out of line, but… have you been dating anyone, since Deb’s death?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t dated anyone since she passed. I’ve thought about it, I’ve been lonely, but it’s been hard,” I said.

“So… Bev has a friend, Rhonda, from the Sisterhood at our synagogue. She’s got two daughters, divorced last year, works as a nurse at Beth Israel Deaconess. She’s tall, very pretty. Not too much older than you. Would you have any interest in being set up with her?” Jeff asked, leaning against my bookcase. “Bev has been pushing for me to set you up with her for months.”

I thought about what Elio had said. That I should sleep with someone before the summer, get a fresh start. “Sure, why not.” A nice dinner never hurt anyone.

“Oh! That’s so great! I’ll email you her contact information, and you can set something up! This will get Beverly out of my hair finally…” Jeff said, laughing.

Jeff went back to his office and quickly sent me Rhonda’s email address and phone number.

I called her and left a message.

“Hi Rhonda, this is Oliver Morgenstern, I’m a colleague of Jeff Friedberg at Tufts. He said that Bev has been wanting to set us up on a date for many months now. If you’re interested, my number is xxx-xxx-xxxx. Give me a call back, and maybe we can meet for drinks or dinner this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you!”

* * *

Rhonda and I were set to meet for dinner at a French restaurant in Newton. We had exchanged pictures over email, so we knew what the other would look like. God bless technology.

She was 46, quite pretty, with long red hair, and very large breasts. We fell into an easy conversation. Her two daughters, Summer and Lacey, were 15 and 11, respectively. They were with their father tonight. Ari was away for the weekend with Model UN, and Vic was spending the night at a sleepover birthday party. Rhonda worked as a nurse in the NICU. Working with sick babies was demanding and challenging, and often depressing, but fulfilling.

We both enjoyed rock music from the 80s, and we agreed that Seinfeld was the best sitcom that had ever aired on television. We talked about our kids, I told her about Deb and what the past year had been like. I liked Rhonda a lot - I could see us being fast friends. Unfortunately, all I could think about was Elio.

After dinner and dessert, Rhonda invited me back to her place for a drink. Each of us was without our children for the evening, so I went with her. I drove directly behind her, following her to her house.

When we got to her house, she instructed me to sit in on the couch in the living room while she popped into the kitchen briefly.  “Your house is really nice,” I said, as she handed me a glass of bourbon and sat next to me, resting her hand on my arm. She had a glass of wine for herself, which she finished off fairly quickly.

“So, what do you like to do on evenings when your kids aren’t around?” she asked, running her fingers from my elbow to my wrist.

“Honestly, I don’t get that much time to myself,” I said. “The boys lock themselves in their rooms a lot, but they’re usually home. This is the first night in months that I’ve been able to go out.”

“Let’s make it count, then,” she said, taking the glass out of my hand, and putting it down on the coffee table next to her wine glass. She moved closer to me, sitting on my lap. “Is this okay?” she asked, resting her hand on my thigh. I nodded quickly. I desired Elio, but I was also human, and I hadn’t gotten laid in well over a year. Also, she was good looking. Maybe Elio was right.

As I sat on the couch, Rhonda straddled me, wrapped her arms around my waist, and started kissing me. I returned the kiss with equal fervor, my tongue exploring every crevice of her mouth. I got hard the instant she started rubbing herself against my crotch. She began unbuttoning my shirt, eventually throwing it to the floor, and anxiously tugged at my undershirt. I helped her remove her blouse, and quickly unhooked her bra. I kissed her neck while I ran the pads of my thumbs over her nipples. We wasted no time. She unbuttoned my trousers, sliding them down with my boxers in one go. “Wow,” she said, admiring my length. “I am definitely going to enjoy riding THIS,” she said, gripping my cock and tugging a little too rough for my liking.

Rhonda knelt on the floor between my knees, my cock still in her tight grip. I leaned back and let out a loud sigh, indicating it was okay for her to continue. She playfully licked at the tip, which was already wet with desire, flicking her tongue around my sensitive underside. She slowly swallowed me, taking as much of my length as she could into her mouth, and began bobbing her head, sucking softly. God, this felt good. I could detach sex from romance, and just enjoy this right now. I pulled her hair gently, moaning loudly. It had been so long, that I was close very quickly. “Rhonda, I’m close,” I warned. This only inspired her to move faster. She tugged at my base with her right hand, at whatever did not fit in her mouth. I came quickly in spurts in her mouth. Fuck, even a mediocre blow job was still good. She didn’t know what I liked the way Elio intuited way back when, where exactly to touch me and where to apply pressure to drive me mad, but it still did the trick.

After kissing me again for a few more minutes, she removed her skirt, I pulled off her lacey panties, and started kissing down her body. I teased each nipple, flicking at them with my tongue, which she seemed to really enjoy. I kissed her torso, her navel, and as I pushed her back onto the couch, I pressed my mouth to her heat, kissing it softly. I lapped around with my tongue, flicking it gently, finding the spot that made her squirm and moan involuntarily. She wrapped her legs around my shoulders as I pleasured her. Rhonda screamed my name when she came, her muscles contracting around the two fingers I had inside of her. I kept going, and made her orgasm another two times. “Holy fuck, Oliver,” she said, after the third.

I smiled at her. “You okay?” I asked, coyly.

“Have you recovered yet?” she asked. I looked down at my erection, and then looked back at her. I think that answered her question.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and she ran out of the room, returning soon with an unopened box of condoms. “Do you want to?” she asked. I nodded enthusiastically, taking the box from her, opening the plastic wrap, and grabbing a condom. I quickly unwrapped the condom, pinching the tip and rolling it down my length. I handed the box back to her, and she threw it on the coffee table.

Rhonda took charge, pushing me down so I laid on the couch. She gripped my cock, and slowly slid herself onto it, and began riding me. I thrust my hips upward, matching her motions as she rolled her hips on top of me. Fuck, this felt good. Eventually, she sat up, bucking her hips faster. I grabbed her middle for balance as she kept the rhythm steady, and she moved my right hand between her legs, using my index finger to rub herself gently. I got the hint, and took over, as she rode us both to a swift climax.

After we cleaned up, we sat up against the couch, and she rested her head against my chest. “Wow, that was on another level,” she said, with a wide grin. I just smiled back. It was good, felt good, but it was mostly mechanical. I knew how to please a partner, and how to give them what they wanted, but all I could think about was that Rhonda was not really what I wanted. The person I wanted was sitting in his condo in New Jersey, and would be spending the summer in an adjoining bedroom to my own.

Regardless, the night was enjoyable. We moved the action to the bedroom, where we had sex once more before falling asleep, and a third time when we woke up. The sex was fun, but ultimately meaningless. We both had busy schedules for the next few weeks, and then I was off to Italy, so I told her I’d be in touch when I got back at the end of the summer.

As I drove home that morning, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be with Elio. I was still conflicted about how if we got together, that we would have to be long distance after the summer ended, so I would have to make a decision about what I wanted to happen with him, and soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Oliver took Elio's advice to heart. At least casually sleeping with someone is helping him realize that he can move on, and he may eventually be ready to commit to Elio?
> 
> Howie refers to Fiddler on the Roof - Yenta is the matchmaker (of "matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match" fame). In Yiddish, a 'yenta' is someone who is a nosy gossip, so it's a fitting name for the character.
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments and kudos!


	18. Last Minute Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick interlude with emails and texts before the gang gets to Italy! The summer of a lifetime starts in the next chapter.

To: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@tufts.edu>  
From: Samuel Perlman <xxxxxxx@polimi.it>  
Subject: Final Arrangements  
Sent: Sunday, June 10 2007

Hi Oliver!

We're very much looking forward to seeing you and your sons next week! Anchise put together bed frames and night stands for the attic, so it should feel like a real bedroom for the boys.

We have the piano and several guitars that Vic can play, but please let me know what other instruments he plays so we can rent them for him for the summer. Seems silly for him to travel with so many instruments.

The only thing Ari will need to bring is his own laptop. I'm afraid we don't have enough computers in the house, and he'll probably want his own to do some work. Elio set us up with wifi a few years ago, so he should be able to access the internet.

Anchise wants to know how tall you and the boys are ("very tall", "nearly as tall" and "growing" were not sufficient responses), so he can have bicycles ready for each of you. Hopefully your boys know how to ride.

Cell phone reception is sparse in the villa, but if you think you'll need a phone, I recommend getting a SIM card or renting a phone while you're here. I assume you'll be able to do most work over the internet, though.

Since there's three of you, and you'll have plenty of luggage (I assume you don't travel as light as you used to), I've hired a van to pick you up at the airport. You'll find the driver at the arrivals gate.

Mafalda looks forward to feeding your growing boys, and we can't wait to see the Morgenstern men.

Regards,

Sammy

* * *

Text conversation between Oliver and Howie, June 11, 2007 

_**Hey, how's it going?** _

_**Looking forward to a summer with the kids away at camp?** _

_I used to, but now that I only get them on weekends, I kind of miss the little stinkers._

_All packed for your summer in Italy with your amore?_

**_It's more complicated than that._ **

**_I don't want to just sleep with him,_ **

**_But I think it'll be too difficult to leave him at the end of the summer_ **

**_I don't think my heart can take that_ **

_You're being crazy_

_You've been mad for this guy for two decades_

_And now you're both single and are going to be sharing a house for two months_

_Stop over thinking it_

**_What about the boys? What if they're not ready for me to be with someone_ **

_No one could ever replace Deb, she was one of a kind_

_But I think they would want you to be happy_

**_I slept with someone a couple of weeks ago_ **

_WHAT????_

**_Elio told me to_ **

**_I said that Deb was the last person I'd slept with, and maybe that was part of what was holding me back_ **

_Who was she? He?_

**_She was a friend of a colleague's wife_ **

**_Divorcee, two kids, red hair, huge chest_ **

**_I spent the night, which I didn't mean to do._ **

_You animal!_

_Did the carpet match the drapes?_

**_I'm not dignifying that with a response_ **

**_Elio encouraged it, but I still feel like I'm cheating on him_ **

_Then don't sleep with her again._

_Does she know that this was casual? That you have feelings for someone else?_

**_I don’t know. Should I tell her?_ **

_You probably don’t want her to wait for you all summer, to find out you’re now in a relationship with someone else._

_You should probably tell her that you had a nice time, but she should still date around this summer, be really nice about it_

**_I’ve been out of the dating game for so long. I shouldn’t have slept with her._ **

**_But she was hot, and came onto me, and Elio said I should “wipe the slate clean”_ **

_You definitely need to apologize to her, then._

**_I know. I’ll call her later._ **

**_I'm nervous about Italy, though._ **

**_I want to be with Elio, but I'm too afraid of someone getting hurt_ **

_If he feels half as much for you as you do for him, I think you'll be fine._

**_Thanks, Howie_ **

**_Thank you for not judging me, for obsessing over a man_ **

_No one will care, dude. As long as you're happy._

_If things don't work out with Elio, I know an LGBT studies professor you might really like_

_But, I Googled Elio, and hot damn, that hair and those eyes_

_I see why you've been pining for eternity_

_If you don't go for him, maybe I will_

**_I need to get on the road, but thanks for listening to me vent_ **

_Any time, Ollie. I miss you, buddy_

_Let's meet for a drink when you get back at the end of the summer_

**_That sounds great_ **

* * *

To: Marzia Giordano-Leroux <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Elio Perlman <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: So Soon!!!!  
Sent: Monday, June 11, 2007

Marzia,

I can't believe I get to see you and Noemie in just two weeks! This is going to be a long summer.

Are you, Chiara and I going to overlap at all? If so, we should loop her in and plan for the three of us to get drinks together in town. No children or significant others.

Speaking of... I have no idea where I stand with Oliver. I really can't get my hopes up, but if nothing happens with him, I think I'll be inconsolable again, like I was back then when he left. When he stayed here in February, we slept together each night. Not sex, literal sleep. Being in his arms again, nothing has ever felt more right. I can't sleep well without him by my side, now that I've had it again.

Even though we're not together, I feel like... he's my other half, and I haven't been fully functional without him. He gave me a glimmer of hope, that maybe we could actually be together, for real this time, in the open, but he keeps pulling back.

Do you think the reason I never got over him was because we had such limited time together and it never had a real ending? The excitement and intimacy of only being able to be together in private? Or, do I just have terrible luck and was only given two weeks with my soul mate, left to spend the rest of my life wondering "what if"?

Marzia, I think he's the one for me. We've both grown, but I still want to be with the person he's become.

Some days, he texts or emails me about how much he misses me, how much he wants me in his bed, and then he'll retract it and say that we can't happen, that it'll hurt us both. I'm hurting by not being with him, has he considered that? He always thinks he's doing what's best for us, best for me, but I never get a say in the matter. He’s being selfish.

I'll take what he's willing to give me. I want forever, but I'll take an hour if that's all he can muster.

BUT… (I hear your voice telling me not to let anyone push me around, and you are right), while I haven’t been actively dating anyone, I do have plans with someone else. Do you remember Russ? The art dealer from SoHo who used to text me pictures of his dick? He called me last week, and asked if I wanted to spend a few days at his place in the Hamptons. He’s setting up a gallery there, and has a house to himself. He asked if I wanted to go with him while his company is paying for a place for him to stay. He said it was nothing serious, no strings attached, but if I wanted to stay with him for a few days, we could fool around, go to the beach, and have a good time. I told him that there was someone else, that I wasn’t WITH him yet but I wanted to be, and would see him all summer in Italy. Russ said that I should come out there with him anyway, and have some fun. We didn’t really have that much in common when we were dating, but he is hot, and we were sexually compatible. He made it clear that this is basically an extended booty call with no expectations, which is fine with me. It could be good to work out my frustrations with someone, and he did offer, and knows where I stand… I head out there tomorrow, and then I go back home a few days later, grab my suitcases, and fly to Italy the next day.

I shouldn’t feel guilty about it, right? I’m not with Oliver right now. I’m not cheating on anyone. I’m hoping this is a last hurrah before a commitment to and with Oliver. If not, then at least I have a fun few days in a beach town with a hot guy who wants to sleep with me and appreciates what I’m able to give.

Sorry I've been making this all about me. You're the only one I can vent to about this. I love you, and I'll see you soon.

Love always,

Elio

* * *

To: Jasmine Jenkins <xxxxxxx@barnard.edu>  
From: Samuel Perlman <xxxxxxx@polimi.it>  
Subject: Re: Congratulations!  
Sent: Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Hello Jasmine,

My family and I very much look forward to meeting you next week! I just wanted to finalize our arrangements before you depart.

I’ve already sent you reading material, so I hope you’ll have digested everything before you arrive. I’ve sent you my most recently published articles and my latest book, so you have a more detailed understanding of the work that I’m currently doing.

Dr. Xenakis said that you took introductory Italian this past semester in preparation for your stay - I hope that by the end of the summer, you’ll be speaking fairly well. That said, don’t worry, we’ll be doing all of our work in English.

I’ve made the arrangements for your flight - you’ll be on the 6:30PM Alitalia flight out of JFK next Tuesday. I’ve forwarded you the flight confirmation. Anchise, who works for my family, will pick you up at the airport.

You will have your own bedroom on the first floor. The house will be crowded, but I do hope that you’ll enjoy how lively it will be. Aside from my wife Annella and myself, our housekeeper Mafalda and her husband Manfredi live here, and the previously mentioned Anchise lives in the guest house. My son, Elio, who is a music professor at Princeton, spends his summers here.

Additionally, I will have a high school intern assisting you and me this summer. His name is Ariel Morgenstern, he’s a rising senior in high school in Brookline, Massachusetts, and he, his younger brother Victor, and their father Oliver (a philosophy professor at Tufts, and your predecessor by about twenty years), will also be staying in the house. If you feel uncomfortable sharing the house with that many men, not to worry - their bedrooms are all on a separate floor from yours, and you will have your own bathroom.

One last thing - if you feel comfortable sharing the information with me, Anchise wants to know how tall you are, so he can have a bicycle ready for you when you arrive. I do hope you know how to ride - bicycle is the easiest way to get into town. If not, we can teach you.

My wife will be sending you a separate email with suggestions of what to pack - she has said that I am hopeless when it comes to advising people, especially women, what they need, so she’s taken it upon herself to help our summer students.

We will see you next week! Have a safe trip.

Best,

Sammy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, thank you all for your comments on the last chapter! I appreciate how invested everyone is in the story, and how much you all care about Elio's well-being (and call Oliver out on his nonsense :D). I hope I'm not disappointing you!
> 
> The Morgensterns arrive in Italy in the next chapter, so the second half of our story can begin!


	19. The Boys are Back in Town

_**POV: Oliver, June 17, 2007** _

I couldn’t believe that I was back at the villa. The boys slept for most of the flight, but I was too anxious to sleep. I was going to be sleeping in the same room where I had first slept with Elio. I was going to be sharing a bathroom, a hallway with Elio. My Elio. I was happy that we were going to spend time with one another. Maybe I’d finally be able to stop being a coward and just be with him.

As Sammy had said, a van was waiting for us at the airport. It was solidly an hour and a half drive from the airport to the villa, and when we turned into the town, down the winding road leading to the Perlman residence, my stomach tightened. It felt like I was coming home, and I couldn't be more nervous.

* * *

Last week, I took Howie’s advice and called Rhonda and spoke to her, thanking her for the date, but said I didn't want her to wait for me through the summer. I asked if I could explain in person. Since she's been busy, we met for coffee by her hospital during her lunch break.

"Hi Rhonda," I said, as she took a seat across from me. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure, I'll take an Americano," she said. I went over to the counter, placed our order, and returned to our table.

"So... I wanted to be honest with you, and felt like in person would be better. I had a REALLY great time with you a few weeks ago, but I should have told you before we met that my mind has been elsewhere."

"You told me about your wife's death, Bev told me that you were a recent widower" she said, frowning. "I understand if you're apprehensive to start a new relationship."

"It's not just that. There's this person, with whom I have a history. We were briefly together 20 years ago, and they've come back into my life. They'll be there in Italy."

"I see," she said. "Do you want to pursue a relationship with her?"

I took a deep breath. Better to be totally honest with her.

"With him... And I think so. I've been so torn up about it for the past year, and each time we come close to being together, I push him away again," I said.

She paused for a moment. The barista called my name and I ran to grab our coffees. "I... I definitely did not get the impression that you were gay... especially when we were... I guess I'm really off of my game," Rhonda said, sipping her coffee.

"I'm not gay... if you had to label me, which I've never really done before aside from one recent conversation with my son, I'm bisexual," I said in a whisper. "Not that it excuses what I did to you, not that my wanting to be with a man should make you forgive me. I should have been upfront about how I was feeling and about any potential romantic future."

"I appreciate your honesty, and I did come on to you pretty strongly, but I think I'm still a bit angry and feeling a bit... used."

I took a slow gulp of my coffee. "I'm so sorry. For what it's worth, you seem really great, and I had fun... I got very swept up in the moment."

She tightened her ponytail and awkwardly adjusted herself in her chair. "Tell me about this guy, the one you might have a past and potential future with."

I told her a brief version of my history with Elio, through the Bar Mitzvah and past year of talking (I omitted his age when we first got together, that would have taken too much explaining). I said that we’d be spending the summer at his parents' place, and that it was actually my kids who had planned this trip. I didn’t know what was going to happen this summer, I was afraid of getting hurt and of hurting him.

"He's on track for tenure at Princeton, and I'm up here about to get tenure at Tufts. I'm worried about the distance. After twenty years of not being together, it'll hurt too much to be separated by a five hour drive if we get together."

"Would it be more painful than not being with him at all?" she asked. "If you want to be with him, if you've wanted this for twenty years, and finally can be with him, the distance shouldn't matter. You'll have whole summers together, and can see each other on weekends. Plus, you can even video chat now. I think you're trying to sabotage things to prevent pain in the future, and in the process, you're leading him on like you led me on."

I thought about what she said, and... I don't think she was wrong. I was still having a difficult time getting my mind to accept that Elio and I could be together that it could be real, that we would and could make it work. Just like I kept removing myself from the situation when we first met, I was putting up roadblocks to prevent my own happiness.

I asked her not to tell Jeff about the whole Elio situation (or at least his gender, I would tell him in my own time). She agreed.

"I have to admit, I'm disappointed. I finally found a nice, smart, single Jewish man, who has kids and understands being a parent, and of course he's hung up on someone else. Sometimes I feel like I can't catch a break," Rhonda said.

"If I haven't said it enough, I'm really sorry," I said. "If you are looking to meet a single Jewish dad, a buddy from grad school who teaches at Brandeis got divorced a few years ago and is looking to meet someone... He always played matchmaker for our friends and actually introduced me to my wife," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe another time, Oliver. I appreciate that you were honest with me, and didn't string me along all summer, and I understand that you need to follow your heart, but I’m still a bit hurt."

"Thank you for being so understanding. Once again, I am so sorry that I hurt you. That was never my intention."

* * *

The driver unloaded our bags, and led us to the doorway. We were immediately greeted by Sammy and Annella. I dropped my things and ran over to them, giving them each a warm hug. “Pro! Mrs. P! It’s so good to see you both! I can’t thank you enough for letting us spend the summer here.”

“Oliver, our home is your home,” Annella said, grinning. She went over to Ari and Vic, and gave them each a hug as well. "Ari, you are the spitting image of your father. Vic, how handsome you'e gotten! You've both gotten so tall!" Vic had not nearly caught up with Ari yet, but he grown several inches this past year, and was showing no signs of stopping. I was glad that my genes were more dominant than Deb's in this regard.

“Oliver! Welcome, welcome! Come on in,” Sammy said. He gave Ari and Vic each a hug, and ruffled Vic’s hair a bit. “Let’s get you all settled into your rooms, and then we can have some lunch!”

Anchise came from the backyard and picked up the boys’ bags, as Vic cradled his clarinet case in his arms. He said he'd borrow any other instrument, and had instructed Sammy over email as to which ones he would want and what accessories he'd need, like reeds, but wanted to play on his own clarinet this summer. Mafalda shouted something I didn’t understand in Italian from the next room, and when Annella replied, Mafalda ran toward the door in her apron, holding a wooden spoon. “Ulliva!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me. “Ari! Vic!” I think she said something about how much they had grown. My Italian was rusty.

Eventually, the members of the household let us get settled in. I carried my things up the stairs, noting that the first time I was here, Sammy forced Elio to grab my things. With Anchise assisting my sons, I brought my luggage to my room myself, and noticed that the beds had already been pushed together for me. I poked my head into Elio’s room, but he wasn’t there, and the room was devoid of his things. Sammy had followed me upstairs, and stood at the doorway.

“He doesn’t get in for several days,” he said, taking a seat at the desk in my room, as I closed the door that connected the bedrooms.

“I didn’t realize that, I thought he’d already be here, his semester ended weeks ago” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“He usually stays from mid June to the week before his semester starts. He's on a brief jaunt to the Hamptons right now, he'll fly out in a few days. How are you holding up?” Sammy asked.

“I’ve been better, Pro, but I think the summer in Italy will help. It's good to get away. I never realized how difficult it would be to raise two sons alone,” I said.

“You are doing an excellent job. You have raised two wonderful boys. I can’t wait to work with Ari, and Vic seems like a total delight. Elio talks about him all the time, he brags about him as if he were talking about his own child.”

I blushed, thinking about Elio as a stepfather. He would be great with my sons, especially Vic. “I can’t believe how close they have gotten over email and text. I think it’ll be good for Vic, spending the summer training with Elio.”

“Elio talks about you all the time, too. I hear you’ve struck up a friendship again. You had such a wonderful rapport your first summer here.”

“You could say that.”

“Just, please, take care of my boy. I know he can fend for himself, but he feels strongly about you, and sometimes he lets his heart get the best of him. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt. You care about each other very much, and we already consider you to be a part of the family… that said… you didn’t see how broken he was after you left, after you got engaged. You are good for each other, and with each other. Take care of one another.”

“I never realized until recently how much I had hurt him. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone. I thought he was young, that he'd bounce back quickly." I took a deep breath and continued. "Pro… I… I’m not sure that Elio and I are anything more than friends right now, anyway.”

Sammy nodded, and I was sure he didn’t believe a word I was saying.

"Well, he'll be here in a few days, and you can resolve the matters of the heart then” I didn't think it was that simple. “I just wanted to let you know that we want what’s best for both of you."

Mafalda rang the dinner bell, and Sammy and I went downstairs to the table outside. Ari and Vic came downstairs a few minutes later, tugging at each other's hair and punching one another, shouting obscenities at each other.

"Get off of me, Icky Vicky!" Ari said, shoving Vic to the side.

"Boys, what's the problem?"

"He stole the larger bed, which was clearly for me!"

"I called shotgun and put my things on it first! Anyway, I'm a 'growing boy' and the little mermaid can fit just fine on the other mattress!"

"You can't call shotgun on a bed! Daaaaad," Ari whined, "tell him that he has to give me the bed."

"Vic, is the other mattress too small for you? We can find you another bed," Sammy offered.

"Pro, don't be ridiculous, you're already giving us too much. Victor Ezra, let your brother have the larger bed. Ariel Jonah, let go of your brother." Ari had grabbed Vic and put him in a headlock.

Ari released Vic, who shoved his brother once he was on solid ground. Annella called them over to the table and seated them on opposite ends. Ari faced Vic and stuck his tongue out, blowing a raspberry.

"Grow up, Ari, you're seventeen. Start acting like it," I said, taking a seat between Vic and Annella. Vic snickered and Ari kicked him under the table. I glared at each of them, begging them to behave. As I said this, I realized that Ari was the same age Elio was when I met him, when I fell for him. I had reconciled the age thing years ago, but it was more apparent now.

Mafalda served us the most amazing tortellini I'd ever had in my life, in a heavy cream sauce. The boys devoured it, and each requested seconds.

* * *

After lunch, I took the boys for a walk around the property, showing them around. I still remembered my way around, and not much had changed.

We sat quietly in the rocks by the water, the breeze showering us with water droplets. "I used to sit out here with Vimini, and we'd talk for hours," I said, thinking about my departed friend. "She would have been thirty this year."

"What would you talk about?" Vic asked.

"Everything. Books, travel, Italian politics, animals, life and death. She gave great advice. She was a child prodigy, so it's not surprising how wise she was, even at ten years old."

"How did you become friends with a ten year old?" Ari said, extending his legs to arch his body toward the sun.

"She lived in that villa over there, she was a precocious kid who liked talking to the Perlmans' various dinner guests so she would come over and chat everyone up. I'll take you to meet her parents at some point this summer. They're the ones who sent the rocking horse you boys both loved as a child."

* * *

After dinner, where I allowed Ari to partake in the wine, the Perlmans invited us into the living room. The adults were offered cocktails and Mafalda made smoothies for the boys. Ari tried to weasel his way into a cocktail, but I shut it down. Wine was enough for the evening. Sammy asked Vic if he'd like to play piano for everyone, and he happily obliged.

He sat down at the stool, stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. "What would you like me to play? All of my sheet music is still packed up," he said.

Sammy opened a drawer and pulled out some yellowing papers. "What about this? Elio composed this piece about ten years ago."

"Sure! I've never seen the music before, so I'm sorry if I make mistakes, but I'm a pretty good sight reader."

Sammy placed the pages at the piano, Vic looked them over briefly, nodded, and began to play.

Vic always seemed so at home, so free when he played music, especially the piano. He was able to express so much emotion, between his facial expressions and body language.

The piece itself was beautiful. There were several movements, each different than the one before it. It started in a major key, slowly increasing in pace, Vic's fingers bouncing quickly around the keyboard. The second was faster, and contained many jarring, dissonant chords. The next found itself mostly in the treble clef, both hands on the right side of the keyboard. As the piece continued, the movements got increasingly complex. The next to last movement was a ballad, almost a funeral dirge, in a minor key, and the piece ended with a movement similar to the first, in a different key, played slightly faster and with more flourishes.

After he finished playing, there was not a dry eye in the house. Mafalda blew her nose loudly into her handkerchief, as if playing a trumpet. Even the usually stoic Ari was dabbing his eye with a tissue. We cheered for Vic, who was hunched over and turning a bright shade of pink.

"Good job, show off," Ari said jokingly, playfully jabbing his brother in the ribs. Vic came and sat next to me on the couch, burying his face in my shoulder out of embarrassment. He loved performing music, but couldn't handle excessive praise.

Breaking the silence, Sammy began giving instructions to Ari. "So, Ari, tomorrow I'll give you the lay of the land, and I'll show you some of what we'll be working on this summer. We'll only work in the morning tomorrow, so you can go into town or go swimming in the afternoon. Let's meet in my office after breakfast?" Sammy said.

"Sounds great, Pro! Thanks for everything! I'm exhausted and jet jagged, so I'm going to go to bed, but I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm tired, too," Vic added. "Good night!"

"Don't forget, meet me at 7 here in the living room so we can go for our morning jog," I reminded my boys. I still run most mornings, and this summer, I was going to make my boys join me. This wasn't just going to be a nice vacation in Italy.

"Ugh, dad, I can't even sleep in on the first day?" Ari kvetched.

"Nope. Be there at 7 or I'm dragging you out of bed myself." Ari and Vic scampered to the kitchen toward the stairway that led to the attic.

Several minutes later, I headed upstairs to my room. In just a few days' time, Elio would be here. I had no idea what the future held for us, what I'd be able to say or do once he got here. We both want more than just cuddling ourselves to sleep, but I don't know what I'll be able to give him yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently my notes never posted, but thank you all for your continued support! I love all of your comments and chatting with all of you!
> 
> We'll be in Italy for a long while now. We've still got a way to go for Oliver to realize what an idiot he's being. Stay tuned!


	20. A Summer to Remember

_**POV: Ari, June 19, 2007** _

We’d been in Italy for two days now. Each morning, Dad woke us up (Vic and I refused to wake up on our own, it was too early and, darn it, we were on vacation), dragged us out of bed, and took us for a run. I had no idea how Dad was still able to do this every morning, for years and years. Even after he’d been out late, unless we had to go somewhere early in the morning, Dad was able to get himself up and go for a jog. I would admire it if it didn’t cut into my sleeping time during the summer vacation.

Vic was struggling a bit with the jogging - he doesn’t play any sports, and is shorter and rounder than Dad and me. Dad says that by the end of the summer, he’ll be in tip-top shape and will outrun us both. I highly doubt that.

I’m in pretty good running shape, since I ran track in the winter and spring. I’m fast, but not the fastest on the team, so I’ve focused more on cross country - helps that I have long legs. It’s kept me in shape for soccer season.

Running around the villa and the town has been beautiful. We’ve run to the lake, through fields and trees. I can’t believe we get to spend an entire summer here. I can see why Dad referred to parts of this place as heaven. In the afternoons, we’ve gone swimming in the Perlmans’ pool and rode our bikes into town, getting to know where everything is. The old lady who runs the gelato shop, Carmela, already loves Vic and me. She’s been running the shop for years, and remembered my dad, so both days we’ve gone in there, she’s let us sample every single flavor. She must have given us 20 Euros worth of free gelato already. Most people in town seem to remember Dad, and they all love him. Dad made quite the impression on this town.

I’ve mostly been able to speak with her, and other people in town, by speaking in Spanish. I’m not fluent by any stretch, but I’ve been taking it since the sixth grade, so I know enough conversational Spanish to get by. The languages are similar enough, though not THAT similar, that between the Spanish words and miming things with my hands, people understand what we’re going for. I’m already picking up some basic phrases, too. Also, most people speak basic English. Professor Perlman thinks that I’ll be speaking Italian by the end of the summer, but I think he’s out of his mind.

Working with Professor Perlman seems like it’ll actually be really interesting. For the past two days, he’s been giving me lectures about the research he does, the basics of the field. I never thought I’d be interested in art or in classics, I kind of thought this summer work would be boring, but he is so passionate about it, and I am actually really interested to learn more. He’s also set me up with a scanner, so during some down time, I’ll be scanning and cataloging most of his papers and slides. He said that for more fragile things, we’re going to have to go to the university and use their more advanced and delicate technology, so he’s going to take me there a few times this summer. I’m going to have to write a brief summary of each thing I scan for the digital catalog, and Professor Perlman thinks I’ll be an expert in the field by the end of the summer. He has such high expectations of what I’ll get out of the summer, and I hope he’s not wrong.

Also, he seems to know pretty much everyone on the planet, and is so well connected. The past two nights, we’ve had dinner guests (Dad said that Elio used to refer to this as “dinner drudgeries,” but I wasn’t bored at all). The first night, it was a professor from Cambridge and her husband who were running through Italy doing research for the summer. The second night, it was a French couple who I think work at a museum. They didn’t speak English, so Annella was translating some of what they said when we looked like we felt left out of the conversation. I can’t wait to see who else is going to show up this summer.

Elio still hadn’t arrived - his father said he’d be here in the next day or so. But today, Jasmine got here. Jasmine is Professor Perlman’s college assistant for the summer, whom I’ll be working closely with on most of my assignments and projects. Anchise picked her up at the airport, and Professor Perlman and Annella have been giving her the lay of the land, in preparation for her to start working tomorrow.

Jasmine seems awesome. She’s black, short, curvy, and very, very pretty. She has these big eyes, almost like a cartoon character, that you can just get lost in. And those boobs! She was only wearing a t-shirt, nothing revealing, but you could tell they were large.They weren’t as big as Paige’s, but they were close. Oh boy, I was definitely a boob man. Of course, maybe I’m feeling like this because she’s the only woman around who is younger than 50, and I haven’t gone out to meet the neighborhood kids yet. It’s not just her looks. During dinner, she was so smart and kept up with the French couple, even though she only took a year of French in high school. She seems super smart and driven. Not in the pushy Hermione Granger kind of way, but in the quiet, you know she’s absolutely the smartest person in the room and she isn’t going to show off about it kind of way. I couldn’t wait to work with her and get to know her.

* * *

After dinner, Dad came up to the attic to talk to me. Vic was downstairs, playing piano for the evening’s dinner guests.

“Ari, I saw the way you were eyeing Jasmine. She’s pretty, and seems nice, but just be careful, okay kiddo?”

“What do you mean, be careful? I haven’t done anything. I’m going to be working with her all summer. Actually, she’s going to be leading most of my projects, so basically, I’m going to be working for her. Nothing will happen, but she’s pretty, and I’m allowed to look at her,” I said, kicking my legs out on the bed.

“You know what I mean, Ari. She’s in college, and she’s older than you. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt,” Dad said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Sheesh, Dad, I just met the girl. I’m not in love with her or anything, I just found her pretty. And I have to keep things professional, we’re working together.”

“Some fatherly advice: be aware of when you’re ogling her. It’s disrespectful to stare for too long like that,” he said.

“The same way you would check out Elio’s butt when we were in Princeton with him? I noticed that.”

Dad’s face turned bright red. “I just want to make sure you have a good summer, and that you make the most of the opportunity you have here.”

“I know, Dad. Thank you.”

“Just… remember that she is here to work for Professor Perlman and that she stands to gain possibly even more than you do with this internship, so don’t distract her, either. For you, this is an item on your resume for your college applications. For her, it’s the beginning of her academic life, the building blocks of her whole career.”

“DAD, like I said, we’re just going to be working together. And probably hanging out, because everyone else around here, like you, is old.” I stuck my tongue out at my father so he knew I was half joking. “I doubt anything is going to happen.”

Dad ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. He said what he needed to say as a father, I got it. I could tell he was just trying to say and do the right thing, but I still found it overbearing and annoying sometimes. “How is it working with Sammy so far?”

“You would know, you did it twenty years ago. It’s good, though. He treats me like an adult and explains complicated things to me, and doesn’t try to simplify them because I’m in high school,” I said, sitting up a bit in the bed.

“He’s a great teacher, I hope you’ll learn a lot from him this summer. I don’t know if I’d be where I am in my career today without his help and without his connections.”

We spoke for a little while longer until Vic came into the room, exhausted from entertaining the guests. “Hey, Dad, Ari, mind if I shut the light to go to bed? I’m beat.”

“Sure thing, I’ll go back downstairs and rejoin the dinner party. Good night, boys. See you bright and early.” Vic and I both groaned. It was going to be a long summer.

* * *

The next day, Professor Perlman gave me the afternoon off when he was giving Jasmine her orientation, since I’d already sat through his introductory lectures two days ago. Dad stayed in the house, doing some work, so Vic and I spent the afternoon in heaven, relaxing in the sun and swimming.

“Pro told me that Elio gets in tomorrow,” I said to Vic, as we waded in the water. “Do you start your music lessons the next day?”

“Not sure,” Vic said, as he swam laps in the short pool. “Elio and I never really figured out a schedule. I imagine it’ll be pretty lenient.”

“Have you noticed how off Dad seems? I wonder if he’s nervous about Elio’s arrival.”

“Maybe it’s just jetlag? Why would he be nervous? He wasn’t nervous when we stayed with him during February break.”

I pulled myself out of the pool and sat on the edge, kicking my feet in the water, enjoying the cool water on my feet while the hot sun warmed up my torso. “He told me that he wasn’t sure if anything would or could happen with Elio, that he wasn’t ready to do anything.”

“We only have two months here. How do we make them count? How do we push them together?”

I shrugged my shoulders. Honestly, I hadn’t really thought it through this far. “I guess we’ll have to wait until he gets here, feel it out from there? Maybe just being in the same place, the place where they used to be together, will be enough?”

“Dad is stubborn,” Vic said, mindlessly splashing water at me. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy. I just want him to be happy, though. You didn’t see the way they were sleeping in Princeton - Dad needs this. I think Mom would have wanted us to help dad.”

I nodded in agreement. “Let’s wait a few days, see how they interact, and play it from there.”

“We’re going to have to _Parent Trap_ , them, like from that Disney movie, aren’t we.”

“Probably. Adults need their kids to push them toward what’s good for them.”

We were in what was likely a unique situation - I had never heard of any other teenage boys who were trying to set up their bisexual father with his ex-boyfriend after their mother’s untimely death. I had no idea how we were going to accomplish this, but it was surely going to be a summer to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your notes and your support/kudos!
> 
> Elio returns in the next chapter!
> 
> Quick note - after the next chapter, I might take a few days off from posting (might go away for the long weekend), but I'll return early next week.


	21. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Elio are reunited! And... things don't go the way either of them planned.

_**POV: Elio, June 20, 2007** _

I was exhausted by the time we arrived at the villa. My flight had been delayed for several hours due to bad weather, and the plane sat on the runway for over an hour after it landed because the plane was waiting for another to depart the assigned gate. Not really the best flight situation for the mental state I was in. All I could think about was that for the next eight or so weeks, I’d be living in the same house, the same hallway, hopefully the same bedroom, as Oliver. The Oliver I’d spent my entire adult life thinking about, dreaming out, wishing I could be with, wishing I could become.

A few weeks ago, he told me that he still wasn’t sure if he was ready to be with me. His wife died a year and a half ago. I know people heal at their own paces, but how much time did he need? Now that I knew I had a slim chance to be with him, I was betting everything on it. Was I wasting my time? Would he never be ready? Why did I let Oliver push me around like this?

This year, I was getting to the villa a week later than usual. As I had discussed with Marzia, I had decided to take Russ up on his offer, and went out to the Hamptons with him for a few days. It was nice. While he wasn’t setting up his gallery, we spent most of our down time at his place, to steal a term from Marzia, fucking like rabbits. It was nice to feel desired sexually and be able to act on it. A week of no strings attached sex, really good sex, lots of sex, was what I needed. I was able to clear my head for at least a few days.

After Anchise helped me bring my things to my room (well, not my room, Oliver had my room, our room), I took stock of the villa. It seemed the only ones home were myself, Mafalda, Manfredi and Anchise. I went into Oliver’s room, poking around his things. Oliver would be sleeping in here, a mere feet from my own bed, for two whole months. Maybe I shouldn’t have come home this summer, stayed in Princeton to teach summer classes, or planned on doing research in Asia or Australia. Rented a cabin in the wilderness in Canada or Iceland to compose music. Get as far away as I could, because I didn’t know if I was going to survive the summer.

As I looked through Oliver’s things, I nosed through the clothing in his drawers, trying to learn more about forty-four year old Oliver. His shorts were longer than the ones he wore in the 80s, everything he owned slightly more expensive and professorial. He no longer had beat up Converse, but instead, a fancy pair of running shoes and clean tennis sneakers. A wrinkled shirt was draped from the desk chair - I picked it up and brought it to my nose and mouth, inhaling his scent. Even his lingering smell drove me mad with desire. Why did I even consider staying away? I needed to be here, close to him. I needed him. How had I survived twenty years without him?

I didn’t know where he had gone today, so I didn’t know when he would be back, but the rest of the day was going to drag on. I decided to take a nap, I figured I would sleep either until Mafalda rang the dinner bell or my parents arrived home from whatever they were doing today, and came to the room to greet me.

Hours, or maybe minutes later, I awoke to the bell. Sleep is funny that way. The sunset was creeping through my window, shades of orange bouncing off of my walls. I collected myself, ran my fingers through my hair to combat my bedhead, and went downstairs. When I finally got outside, the dinner table was crowded. My parents, Vic, Ari, Oliver, and who I assume was Jasmine were all sitting at the table. My mother saw me come out the door first and ran over to me. I noted how much easier her gait and mobility were since her hip replacement.

“Elio! My darling! You’re awake!” She said, hugging me. “We were going to wait for you to get home from the airport, but after your flight was delayed, we didn’t know what time you’d be home.”

“It’s okay, maman, I fell asleep as soon as I got home anyway. It was a tiring trip.”

“Good to see you, son,” my dad said, also sweeping me into a hug.

I went over to the table and greeted everyone. “Vic! Ari! Good to see you again! And you must be Jasmine - it’s so nice to meet you!” I said, extending a hand for a handshake.

Oliver came over to me, smiled, and gave me a hug. “Hi, Elio,” he said, squeezing me tight. I returned the hug, perhaps a bit too excitedly. I couldn’t tell if it was a platonic hug on his end, or something more. Touching Oliver was electric. Our chemistry, our heat was palpable. He was lucky that we were outside, surrounded by our families, otherwise I might have ripped his clothing off and taken him then and there on the table, as he had drunkenly told me that he wanted me to do in his emails.

Mafalda served us fish with potatoes and vegetables. I missed her cooking so much when I was in the states. There was nothing like her home-cooked meals. Over dinner, Jasmine told me about the work she does at Barnard, she and my dad talked about the research she’ll be doing this summer, and the projects that Ari would assist on. Vic caught me up on how his school year ended, with top grades of course. He was excited to begin studying with me, and wanted to start our lessons the next morning - he couldn’t wait to show how he’d practiced the pieces I’d already sent him.

Usually gregarious and garrulous, Oliver was noticeably quiet this evening. We were seated at opposite ends of the table, and I did notice that he kept looking at me with a sad glint in his eyes. This did not bode well for me. Although, for what it was worth, Ari and Vic also kept staring at me, too. I didn’t make much of that. Maybe the bedhead hadn't quite gone away.

Before we went our separate ways to bed, we crowded in the living room to listen to Vic play a Beethoven piano sonata. The boy was so talented. I couldn’t wait to work with Vic. He was so bright and eager to learn. He’d never had proper music theory classes before (it is so strange that in American public schools, they teach children how to play and perform music, but not about the basics of music itself - my lessons in my private Italian school were so much richer), and he was going to devour our lessons.

Oliver followed the boys to the attic, and I went upstairs to my room to unpack a bit and get ready for bed. I went into our shared bathroom to brush my teeth. Oliver entered the bathroom as I was spitting out some mouthwash.

“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s really good to see you. The house has felt empty without you here these past few days.”

I wiped my mouth on a towel, and then moved closer toward him. “I missed you.” I was nervous, and wasn’t sure where we had left things. Did he want me to sleep in the bed with him, like we had in Princeton? If that was all he was willing to give me, then I knew that I would still take it, anything to be closer to him.

“I missed you, too, Elio,” he said. I took his hand in mine, squeezing gently. He sighed loudly, squeezed my hand in return, and said, “I’ve been thinking about you, about us, pretty much constantly. It’s unhealthy how much I’ve thought about this.”

“Oh? So there is an us?” I flitted my eyelashes at him, in an attempt to be coy. I knew Oliver could always see right through me, so it was futile.

“There has never not been an ‘us’, Elio. It’s just… what if I hurt you again?”

“Oliver… I will take whatever you are able to give, we can take things slowly and move at whatever glacial pace you need. I will sleep in your bed, doing nothing more than cuddle, if that’s what you want or need. You won’t hurt me again.” Did I really believe this? Could I really do this? What if he was just leading me on, and nothing would ever happen?

He frowned and looked at his feet. “You don’t know that, though. I lost my wife, my children lost their mother, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to just pick up and be happy again. It feels wrong that Deb had to die so we could be happy together.”

“You can't look at it that way. You loved her, but she’s gone, has been gone for a long time at this point, and I think she would want you to find happiness. She wouldn't want you to mope around for the rest of your life.”

Oliver nodded sadly. “I’m still grieving, Elio.”

He was so frustrating. Each time he opened up a bit, he closed himself even more, and made it that much more difficult to reach him. It was a new excuse every single time. “You’re still grieving, the way you ran back to Deb immediately after our summer, the way you grieved our relationship?”

“That’s not fair, Elio. Not everything is so cut and dry, and our situation was different. We couldn’t be together, not then, for so many reasons. Deb was there for me when I was depressed, when I couldn’t stop thinking about you and having left you. She was depressed because the man she had left me for had cheated on her and gotten his mistress pregnant. We were depressed together, and decided to help each other out of our slumps.”

I took a step back angrily. “I could help you out of your slump now. I will be here for you. I don’t know why you keep holding back. It’s infuriating. I want to be with you, and you want to be with me.”

“Elio… I do want to be with you… but, what happens at the end of the summer? You go back to Princeton, and I go back to Brookline, and we see each other once a month? Don’t you think that will hurt us more?”

I grunted in frustration. “First of all, I am more than willing to travel up to you every weekend, and you know that. I understand that you have your sons and the onus of travel would be on me. I’m happy to do that, for you. You said it yourself, what we had, what we could have, is fucking special. We will find a way. Stop making excuses.”

Oliver frowned, and I continued. “I am going to lay everything out for you. I want to be with you. I think you want to be with me, too. Each time you make some progress, you take two steps back, and it’s not fair to me. You keep letting your guard down and letting me in, giving me a glimmer of hope, and then pulling back. You’re afraid of hurting me? Guess what - you’re already hurting me.

“Are you afraid to be happy? Are you afraid to come out of the closet and be with a man? Do you truly feel guilty being happy now? I need to know why you can’t do this, because if you’re never going to be able to commit to me, you have to tell me. I can’t keep getting strung along like this. Each time you make an excuse, it cuts into me like a dagger, and each time, it's a different excuse. Grow up.”

“Elio,” he said, grabbing my hand. I pulled my hand back, looked him in the eye, and furrowed my brow. He was fighting back tears. “I just… I need more time. Can you give me more time to make a decision?”

“You want me to give you an ultimatum? I can give you an ultimatum, but your indecision already feels like a decision to me. We’re here together, stuck in my parents’ house, in this small town, this whole summer. If you can’t tell me that you can commit to me by the end of the summer, then this is over. Like I said, we can take things as slowly as you need, if you need to wait to make things physical, I can wait for you, but I need a commitment from you, and you can’t keep wavering. After I go back to the States, I’m not going to wait any longer. There are plenty of women and men out there who are willing to make a commitment to me. I want that person to be you, I’ve spent my entire life wishing for that person to be you, but if you can’t do that by the time I fly home, then that’s it. Good night, Oliver. Come find me when you make up your mind.”

“Elio…”

I interrupted him before he could say anything. “No, Oliver. You do not get to have the last word tonight. I do.”

I stormed out of the bathroom, and slammed the door behind me, collapsing onto my bed, instead of into Oliver’s arms, as I had originally pictured the night going. I wished I had approached this differently, but at least I was able to lay my cards out on the table for him. He knew how I felt, he knew that he was pushing me around for the better part of a year, and I gave him a deadline to make a decision. I wanted him to fight for me. After that, as painful as it would be, I would move on and find someone new. I just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was satisfying for you! Oliver has been leading Elio on for months, and Elio needed to stand up for himself.
> 
> Ari and Vic are still cooking up ways to get them together, and Oliver and Elio both still desire each other, so it's going to be a VERY interesting summer.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued kind words! I really enjoy reading your comments (even if they're angry about Oliver or Elio's decisions), and appreciate the kudos!


	22. You're the Top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a reference to Cole Porter, and is sadly not sexual in nature.

_**POV: Ari, June 21, 2007** _

Dad was in a bad mood during our run this morning. He slipped on a rock and scuffed his kneecaps, and then spent the rest of the run cursing at himself. Even before he fell, he was particularly moody. He even yelled at Vic to keep up with us - previously, he would tell me to slow down so that we ran at a pace that was comfortable for Vic. Something was up, and I didn’t know what it was.

At breakfast, while I ate my Nutella crepes, Elio showed Vic how to properly open a soft-boiled egg. I had already given up, as the past few mornings, I’d smashed mine. Dad laughed and said he used to do that, too, but it takes some time to learn. As he did this, Dad glared at Elio. When they thought that no one was looking, they each looked at the other and gave him an angry look. Maybe they had a fight last night after we went to bed? This wasn’t good.

When we went back to our room to change for the day, I said to Vic, “Did you notice the tension between Dad and Elio? It was bad, they seemed upset with each other.”

“Dad did seem grumpier than usual today. I wonder what happened?”

“You start your lessons with Elio today,” I said. “When you study with him, start asking questions, get more information out of him. I can work on Dad.”

Vic nodded. “I don’t know what to ask, though.”

“Just start digging. Get information about their past. Details about something specific that happened between them at some point. Whatever information you can dig up, write down so you don’t forget it and so we can form a plan.”

“So we’re the Hardy Boys now? Solving a mystery and taking notes?” Vic said with a chuckle.

“I’d say we’re more like a matchmaking service than a detective agency.”

“I need to go meet Elio downstairs at the piano. We’ll compare notes later.”

Dad had gone outside to work by the pool, so before I went to Professor Perlman's office, I stopped by dad's room to look for clues. His laptop was on, so I typed in his password (it was ArielVictor, not that hard to crack. I've known it for years), and nosed around. His browser was open, with an email he had sent yesterday.

* * *

To: Howard Levinson <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: Greetings from Italy  
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Hey Howie,

Greetings from Italy! It is gorgeous here. The weather is perfect, the villa is just as I remembered, and the food is going to make me fat but happy.

I just wanted to vent/ask for your advice.

Elio got here today, and... things are not as I expected. We were talking, and I told him I needed a little more time to think things through, I wanted to make sure we were both ready and won't get hurt, and he got angry and gave me a deadline.

He said that I'd been leading him on for the past year, and that it was upsetting him that I was waffling while he waited for me. That I'm the one who always makes the decisions about us. If I can't commit to him by the end of the summer, he's done trying.

I'm afraid, Howie. I'm afraid I'm going to get hurt and never recover. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt him irreparably. I'm afraid my sons will be tormented for having a dad who dates another man. I want to be with him, but I'm scared. What should I do?

Best,

Oliver

* * *

To: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Howard Levinson <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Greetings from Italy  
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Ollie, you big dummy.

Tell him you're into him and want to be with him.

Commit to him. You are crazy about him. He is crazy about you. You're being crazy. You should be happy together.

Stop doubting yourself and trying to end things before they begin to save yourself from pain. Allow yourself to be happy.

If you get hurt, if he winds up hurt, so what? At least you both gave it a try. If anyone gives the boys any shit, then they are terrible people. Most of our friends, most people we know, will just be happy that you found love. They won't care whom it was with. If they don't support you, they're not worth having in your life anyway.

Stop being a chicken. Go tell him how you feel.

* * *

Dad was still friends with Howie? I thought they stopped talking after he and Jill got divorced, since Jill was mom's best friend. How did Howie know about Elio? I had to go do work, but I would think about this later. I locked dad's computer, leaving it how he had left it, and went back downstairs.

* * *

After working with Professor Perlman and Jasmine in the morning, and after a leisurely lunch, Professor Perlman suggested that I take Jasmine for a tour of the town and show her around, since Anchise was cleaning the pool today. This was the first time I was going into town without my dad showing me the way, but I was pretty sure I had the hang of it.

We parked our bikes by the newsstand and went for a walk. “This place has great pizza,” I said, pointing to a small pizza shop. “Let’s go in here, we can get some gelato. Carmela, the owner, loves me already.”

“Ari!” Carmela said, with a big smile. “Where is Victor?” She asked, with a very thick accent.

“He’s working with Elio today. Piano lessons.”

“Is he musician, like Signor Elio?” she asked, handing us each spoons with samples of the flavor of the day, mascarpone.

“He is! Carmela, this is Jasmine,” I said, pushing Jasmine toward her. “She works with Professor Perlman, too.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jasmine said to Carmela, in Italian. Carmela replied, and I had no idea what she said, but Jasmine laughed. She handed us each a scoop of gelato, and when I tried to hand her money, she pushed my hand away.

We walked around the town square eating our gelato. “I haven’t paid for anything at the gelato shop yet. I’m going to single-handedly put that place out of business by the end of the summer,” I said, licking my spoon.

“My god, this ice cream is amazing. We have good ice cream in New York, but nothing like this,” she said, moaning as she slowly ate spoonfuls.

“What do you do for fun at school?”

“I go downtown with my friends sometimes, but with my classes, my work-study job at the law library, the research that I’m doing with the classics department, and the after school tutoring I do at an elementary school in Harlem, I don’t have that much free time. I do sing in an acapella group, though. I wanted to do something silly and fun in college.”

Acapella was such a cliche college activity, but it was cute that she was in a group. “What’s your group called?”

“Fermata The Blue,” she said, smirking.

“I think Vic would appreciate the punny name more than I do.”

“What do you do? Are you a musician like your brother?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I mean, I play trombone in the school band but I’m not great at it and I wouldn’t call myself a ‘musician’. I do a lot - I play soccer and run track, I’m the captain of my debate team, I do Model UN, I was a lead in my school musical last year, I play video games…” I said.

“Oh! What show did you do? I love musical theater!” Jasmine said. “That’s one of my favorite things about being in New York - I get student discount tickets to shows as often as I can afford it.”

“ _Anything Goes_ \- I was Billy Crocker.”

“I love _Anything Goes_! What a classic musical.” She shook her hands in front of her, like jazz hands, and started to sing. “ _You’re the top! You’re the Coloseum, you’re the top! You’re the Louvre Museum…_ ”

I laughed, and we sang the song, alternating the lines, as we walked around, working on our gelato. We finished the last lines of the song together. “ _But if baby, I’m the bottom, you’re the top!_ ”

As we giggled together, a woman in her late 30’s started to clap. She had long brown hair, was wearing a floral dress, and was walking around with a toddler in frilly overalls. “Zat was great!” she said, in a thick French accent. “Excuse me, but I have to ask, because you look SO much like him and you are speaking English. Are you Oliver’s son?”

I nodded. No surprise that someone else in town recognized me and remembered Dad. “Yep, Oliver’s my dad.”

“Oh!” she said, and grabbed me into a hug. I looked at Jasmine, and gave her a look that said _I have NO idea who this random lady giving me a hug is_. “I’m Marzia, Elio is my best friend! I met your father the last time he was here for the summer!”

Marzia. I’d never heard of her. “Nice to meet you, Marzia. I’m Jasmine,” she said, hand extended.

“Are you Sammy’s student this summer?” Marzia asked, grabbing the back of her daughter’s overalls as she started to wander off.

“Yes! I’m excited to work with him.”

“And you must be… Are you Vic or Ari?” Marzia asked.

“I’m Ari,” I said. How did she know our names?

“Right, Elio said he went to Vic’s Bar Mitzvah last year, and you’re definitely older than… thirteen, that’s when you have a Bar Mitzvah, right?”

“Yeah, Vic is thirteen. I’m seventeen.”

Marzia came closer to me, examining my face. “Zut alors! You look JUST like your father, it’s remarkable. So you’re the smart athlete, then. I hear you’re only looking at top universities.”

“Maman, je veux de la glace,” the little girl said to Marzia, pointing at the remainders of my gelato.

“Not now, Noemie. Ari, Jasmine, this is my daughter Noemie. Noemie, say hello,” she said to her daughter, very slowly in English. “We’ve been trying to teach her English and Italian, on top of French. We live in Paris, so French is her first language.”

“Oh! We’re going to Paris later in the summer for a few days! Dad is presenting at a conference and is taking us there.”

“Hello,” Noemie said, grabbing her mom’s leg and hiding behind it.

“Don’t be shy, ma chérie, you are going to see Ari and Jasmine at Elio’s house all summer!” She looked at us and said, “Annella lets us use the pool whenever we want to.”

“Oncle Elly! Où est l'oncle Elly?” she asked, looking around.

“Don’t waste your time today, then, we were sent into town because Anchise is cleaning the pool,” I said, and then bent down to talk to Noemie. “Elio is with my little brother, Vic, today. They’re playing piano!" I imitated someone playing the piano, making a funny face, and Noemie giggled.

“We should get going, but it was lovely to meet you! I’m sure I’ll see you in the next few days. The Perlmans have invited us over for lunch soon.”

“I was nice to meet you, Marzia,” Jasmine said, smiling.

“You, too. See you soon,” I said. “Au revoir, Noemie!”

Noemie waved at us, as Marzia carted her off.

“She seemed nice!” Jasmine said.

“It’s weird that she knew so much about my family. Elio must have told her about us?” I said, shrugging.

“Your father and Elio seemed cold toward each other this morning. Were they friends?”

“You could say that,” I said. I didn’t know if I should be telling Jasmine about my dad’s history with Elio, yet.

* * *

We rode our bikes back to the villa after we toured around some more, ready to take a nap before dinner.

On my way back to the attic, I stopped by my Dad’s room to see if he was feeling better. He was sitting at his desk, a few books open around him, glasses on, typing away. Hopefully he didn't realize that I had been on his computer earlier.

“Hey, Dad, you got a minute?”

"Sure, Ari, what's up?" Dad said, taking off his glasses.

"I just wanted to see if you were okay. You seemed grumpy during our run, and something was up between you and Elio at breakfast."

"I'm fine, nothing is wrong," he said, unconvincingly.

I sat down on the edge of his bed. "Are you sure? You don't seem like yourself today."

Dad stretched his arms above his head and turned the chair to face me. "I... We... Elio and I had an argument last night."

I nodded. This was what I thought had happened. "What did you fight about?" I knew, but I wasn't going to tell him I snooped through his email.

"He and I had different expectations about how the summer was going to go. He thinks I've been leading him on."

"Have you?" Honestly, it was just like Dad to let his guard down and then tighten it back up and push him away.

"Probably... I've been kind of terrible to him."

Dad slouched in his chair, frowning. "How were you terrible to him? You're not a bad person."

"Well... I... we've spent the past year talking, texting and emailing, about our possible future together, but when I was feeling sad or particularly vulnerable, I would tell him how much I wanted to be with him now, how much I missed him. I then kept pulling back, telling him that I'm not ready. It wasn't fair to him, he spent the past year waiting for me, but I told him I still needed more time to decide about things."

"Dad... Do you want to be with him now?" I asked.

Dad nodded slowly. Tears were welling in his eyes, and he was trying to blink them away. "I think I do, Ari. But it's not that simple, I think we're giving each other space right now, after our fight last night. He seemed like he didn't want to speak to me today. I think I need to give him a couple of days before I bring it up again. I also have you and your brother to think about."

"If you're worried about how Vic or I would take it, we just want you to be happy. Mom would have wanted you to find happiness again, too. She wouldn't want you to be alone forever. If you feel ready to date again, you should date again. If you want to be with Elio, you should be with Elio. Fuck what anyone else thinks. No one will judge you for dating again - mom's been gone a while. And no one will judge you for being with a man. It's 2007! You wouldn't have to hide it." He gave a ton of reasons to Howie, but which was the main one? Was Dad holding back because Elio was male? Or was he just damaged goods and afraid to get hurt again? When we first talked about this, he had told me how" traditional" his father had been, and how he could have never been honest with him about his sexuality. Was he still afraid of publicly admitting that he liked men?

"Thank you, Ari," he said, wiping his eyes with his index finger.

I decided not to linger on this any longer. I'd work on this another time, I laid enough groundwork today. Dad seemed emotionally raw, and I wanted to let him process things himself. I figured I'd tell him about my afternoon, instead, and change the subject. "So, when Jasmine and I were in town earlier, we met someone who said she knew you - her name is Marzia..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, very mixed reaction to the last chapter (but I'm glad it got a reaction)! Oliver is still a pill for a few more chapters, but Elio's ultimatum will definitely affect him.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments, even the ones where you are very, very angry about what the characters are doing. I seriously appreciate all feedback.
> 
> Note: I don't speak French, so anything Noemie says is copied from Google Translate. Let me know if I'm wrong and I'll change it!
> 
> Also, quick question. For those of you with subscriptions, if I edit a previous chapter, do you get notifications each time I make an edit? Or only when the chapter is first posted? I went back and added dates to the old chapters to make the timeline in Italy make more sense, and I sincerely apologize if you got 20 email notifications.
> 
> If you don't know "You're the Top" by Cole Porter from Anything Goes, Sutton Foster won a Tony for the recent revival playing Reno Sweeney - here she is with her costar singing the song: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZViKrO-pMo>


	23. Don't Tell Your Father

_**POV: Elio, June 23-25, 2007** _

Oliver and I hadn’t spoken much over the past several days. I needed time to recover, and I wanted to give him time to realize what he would lose if he couldn’t give me a commitment. I thought my decision was the right one, even though I felt terrible. I wanted to talk to him about his work. I wanted to play him my new composition, ask for his feedback. I wanted to tell him how promising Vic was. I wanted to chat about everything and anything. I wanted to kiss the scabs on his knees that were starting to peel off. Obviously, I wanted to do much more than talk, but we usually had such a good back-and-forth, and I missed that. Even in our emails and phone calls this past year, we got along so well. It wasn't always just about my physical attraction to him (but... that symmetrical face, that jawline, that apricot...), I was attracted to his mind, to who he was as a person, even if that person was so damaged that he couldn't commit to me yet. Maybe the silent treatment was the wrong way to approach this, but Oliver needed to know what he would lose if he lost me, and he was one for removing himself from the situation to avoid talking about things, so maybe silence would be effective.

I have, however, been watching Oliver from afar. I saw how proud he looks after Vic plays the piano or one of his many woodwind instruments. I admired him when he sat patiently with Ari, helping him work on a college application. Vic was publicly affectionate with him, but I saw how Ari would rest his head on Oliver’s shoulder when he was tired or had too much wine with dinner or thought no one else was looking. As much as he was currently hurting me, he was such a wonderful father, and seeing him with his boys helped me get over some of the torment I had experienced when I was younger, years of imagining our parallel lives, what would have happened if I had told Oliver I minded that he was getting engaged. Of course I had minded, I hadn't wanted to lose him then, but if he hadn’t married Deb, he would have never had Ari or Vic, and they were a beautiful family. Hopefully they would have room in their hearts for me to join their family one day. If Oliver could ever get over whatever insecurities were holding him back this time.

While my Dad prepared an office for Oliver and me (in previous years, I've used the attic as a quiet place to work on composing, but that was now a makeshift bedroom), we’ve both been working outside near the pool or on the picnic table, since it beats working in our bedrooms during the day. Unfortunately, still plural bedroom **s** and not **our** bedroom. He is very methodical about his work, something I had almost forgotten about. He would spread his books out on a towel, and kept switching between highlighters - I’m sure each color meant something different.

* * *

After breakfast today, my mother pulled me aside to sit down on a bench in the backyard and speak. We spoke mostly in French.

"Tesoro, how are you doing?" she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder, starting to rub my back affectionately.

"I'm fine, maman, I'm good," I replied. "Trying to finish a new composition this summer. How is your hip feeling?"

“Like new! I can move better than I have in years!”

I smiled at my mother, I was happy that she was feeling better now.

"How have your lessons with Vic gone?” she asked. “This is the first time you're tutoring someone that young, correct? He's such a sweet boy."

"They're going really well," I said, with a smile. "He's a fantastic piano player, and he's taken to music theory and transcribing incredibly fast. He's better than I was at that age. And he's such a good kid - Oliver raised him well."

"Speaking of, how are things going with Oliver? You two seem quiet around one another, not the way you used to talk and talk." My mother was always so perceptive, but she was usually more subtle than this.

"I... I gave him an ultimatum. He's been telling me that he wants to be with me for almost a year now, but isn't ready. How much longer can I wait? He gives me excuse after excuse, and it hurts. I said if he can't commit to something with me by the time I fly home, we're done, no more chances, no more waiting."

She rest her head on my shoulder, continuing to rub my back. "Oh, sweetheart... I don't want you to get your heart broken again. I think he truly cares about you, that he does want to be with you. I just think that he's afraid of getting hurt again."

"I'm not going to hurt him."

"I know, darling, and I think deep down, he knows that, too. I suppose he did need to know how much he was already hurting you, though."

"I've been giving him the silent treatment since we spoke. I'm not sure how much longer I can last at that, but I want him to know that I mean business." My mother ruffled my curls a bit. "Do you think he's afraid to be with me because he doesn't want to be judged for being with a man?"

"I don't know. His parents weren't like us, he grew up in a pretty repressive home environment. I don't know if silence is the best way to approach this. Give him time, Elio. I think he'll come back to you soon. You called him out on his excuses, he'll now realize when he's making one and understand the mistake he's been making. You're irresistible and you're a catch, and I don't think it'll take long for him to make his decision. He's crazy if he says no."

"Thanks, maman. Je t'aime." I gave her a kiss on the cheek as I headed toward the table to do some work.

* * *

Two days later, while Oliver was at the university for the day, Marzia and Thierry brought Noemie over to swim. Instead of working, I took the day off from composing to spend time with my best friend, and pushed Vic’s lessons to the afternoon. I gave Noemie a kiss on the forehead after she gave me a long hug, and she told me in French that girls in her preschool class said boys’ kisses give you cooties, but Oncle Elly kisses are worth getting cooties for. Children were so sweet and innocent, and knew just the right things to say to melt your heart. Noemie waded in the pool wearing an inflatable ducky pool float, while Thierry stood next to her, making sure she stayed afloat.

Marzia and I sat on lawn chairs, basking in the sun. “Has anything happened with Oliver yet?” she asked me.

“Not the kind of anything you're hoping for. I did give him an ultimatum, though. I told him that I can wait for anything physical, I can move at his pace, but he has to give me a commitment, which he hasn’t been able to do yet. If he can’t commit by the end of the summer, then I told him I’m done with him. But it's been a few days, and I'm dying here, Marzia.”

“Good for you!” Marzia said, sipping her juice. “You didn’t actually mean it, though, did you?”

“I don’t know. I want him to think I mean it. I don’t think I can let him go this time, so you know I’m going to let him walk all over me. But I think I have to. When I fly home, I have to let this end if he still hasn't committed.”

“If you let him string you along longer than that, I will come find you and slap you silly. Stand up for yourself. Love yourself. Do things for you. Speaking of, how was your vacation with the artist?”

“Russ is an art dealer, not an artist, but it was good,” I said, with a smile to indicate that by “good” I meant “sexy times.”

Marzia looked into the pool, as Thierry was throwing Noemie up in the air and catching her, making exaggerated splashes each time. “I’m glad someone was getting some. She has made it so difficult to get any time alone with Thierry,” she said, nodding at her daughter.

"The time with Russ was fun, but it made me realize that I don't really want casual sex anymore. I want a relationship, and I want it with Oliver. He’s afraid of getting physical again. He thinks he’s going to hurt me in the long run.”

“Oh, Elio, does he realize how much he’s hurt you already this time around?”

* * *

Oliver was still not back for lunch, but Marzia, Thierry and Noemie stayed. When Noemie saw Ari and Jasmine, she ran over to them and gave them hugs, asking if they were going to have more ice cream.

“Mafalda can probably teach us how to make ice cream. Would you want to do that one day, Noemie?” he asked.

“OK! But I want ice cream NOW!” she shouted in English.

“Sit down, Noemie, we’ll get you ice cream after lunch,” Thierry said.

Over the next hour and a half, as we ate the fish that Mafalda prepared for lunch, Marzia, Thierry, Ari and I probably each consumed a bottle of wine, while my parents and Jasmine moderated their intake. Mafalda served chocolate gelato for dessert - Vic and Ari high fived each other, and Noemie ran around the table screaming in Italian about how excited she was for the ice cream. These children were all obsessed. Jasmine chased her around the table, catching her and lifting her up in the air, then tickling her, before putting Noemie back in her chair so she could eat her gelato before it melted. Vic started taking pictures of everyone at the table with his digital camera, including an adorable shot of Noemie with gelato on her nose and cheeks, happily slurping up every last drop of melted chocolate. Marzia asked if he could email her the picture later. I said I’d give him her email address.

* * *

Marzia and her family went back to her parents’ villa after lunch, and Vic and I headed to the piano for a lesson. We were working on harmonizing scales. Vic and I had switched seats so I could play something for him in demonstration.

"Did you play for my dad when you were together?" he asked, as I finished playing.

"I did. He has no musical talents himself, other than barely being able to hold a tune, but he loved to hear me play, especially when it was just us." I stopped myself, suddenly realizing what Vic had said to me and what I had just confirmed. Vic and I had gotten so close over the past year, especially in person over the past few days, and the wine had made me all warm and fuzzy, so I hadn't even thought about a response, I just spoke.

"How... Why... Did your dad tell you that?" I couldn't imagine Oliver having brought up our history with his son.

“Elio… people don’t tell me things or don’t include me in the conversation because they think I'm just a kid, but I’m observant. I see the way you both look at each other, the way your parents look at the two of you. You two had a thing when he was here the first time. A romantic thing. That obviously ended when my dad went back to New York and married my mother. I just don't know the details of it, but I figured it out.”

I nodded again. How could I lie to the kid? He was very perceptive. How could he infer that many details from just a few glances? “We… yes. That’s all correct.”

Vic opened his arms and hugged me. “I think you both still like each other. Why aren’t you together now? He's single, you're single?” he asked.

I loved how open an accepting he was. It was refreshing - Oliver did something right when he raised his kids, probably trying to do the opposite of his strict and homophobic father. “That’s a complicated question, Vic.”

“Do you want to be together?”

“I’m not going to lie to you. I do."

Vic looked me in the eye. "Then why aren't you together? I want my dad, and you, to be happy, and you'd make each other happy, even if you are fighting right now."

"Well... Your father... He's..." How could I phrase this to him? "He isn't sure if he wants to be with anyone since your mom passed. He says he still needs time to heal."

He nodded. "How did you two get together last time? It must have been in secret... it's so sad how difficult life can be for gay couples, especially then, but even now. People are cruel," Vic said.

"Are you sure you want me to tell you about this? Please don't tell your father I told you... I shouldn't be telling you any of this... This is your father's story to tell..."

"I want to know... And my lips are sealed. Please tell me the truth, I'm old enough to hear this and understand. I don't think he'll ever tell me."

Where to begin? "When I met your dad, he was the most handsome person I'd ever met, and we had this instant connection. I can't explain it. We talked about music, philosophy, books, Judaism, anything and everything. He was the only person around here who didn't treat me like a kid, he treated me like an equal. He then started to avoid me, I think to fight I this connection, but I was courageous and brazenly told him, kind of obliquely, how I felt about him. We were in town, near the Battle of Piave monument. He basically confirmed that he felt the same way, but couldn't act on it, had to 'be good'."

"That sounds like Dad. Refusing to go after something he likes or wants because he thinks it's not going to end well. You should see his self - restraint when Ari, Mom and would I order ice cream sundaes when I was a kid. 'If I eat even a scoop, I'm going to have to run a half marathon tomorrow morning', " he said, in a deep voice imitating his father.

I chuckled. Of course Vic likened Oliver denying his attraction to me to something related to ice cream. "That day, he didn't have any work to do, so I took him to my special spot, the berm, where I used to go to be by myself and read. They say Monet painted there. We kissed, and he told me that we couldn't do that again. He started to avoid me again. I couldn't bear it - we had become such good friends, I enjoyed his company so much, and now he was leaving the room if I entered, avoiding dinner if I would be there. I sent him a note telling him how I felt, and he responded."

"What did your notes say?" Vic asked, with innocent, wide-eyed curiosity.

"Mine said, ' _Can't stand the silence. I need to speak to you_ ,' and he responded with, ' _Grow up, I'll see you at midnight_.'"

"Grow up, he says that to Ari all the time. What happened at midnight?"

I smiled, thinking about our first night together. That was just for Oliver and me, I was not sharing any of those details. "We talked things over. After that, we were inseparable for the rest of the summer. We only had two weeks together, but they were the best two weeks of my life. But then he went back to New York, got back together with your mother, and the rest is history."

"You both must have been in such pain, leaving each other like that," Vic said with a frown. The boy was so empathetic, and understood emotion much better than I did at his age.

"I was inconsolable for a while, especially after he got engaged. But, your dad loved your mom, and that's just how things went, life goes on. He was happy with her, had the two of you, and I've dated many men and women and been happy with them."

"Then why do you both seem miserable now?" he asked.

"I don't know..." I sighed, leaning my elbow on the edge of the piano. "How did you get to be so wise and understanding? You remind me of Vimini in that regard." He smiled at me, at the mention of how namesake.

Vic then scratched his head, and I could see a lightbulb pop up above his head, as if he were a cartoon character. "Hey, instead of doing our transcription lesson outside by the pool, why don't you take me to your berm to do it? Would you mind taking me there? I know you said it was your private spot."

I thought about it for a moment. The last person I had brought there was Oliver. The only person I had ever taken there was Oliver. I hadn't even been there in a few years. My wine addled brain couldn't refuse this sweet kid. "Sure, why not. Just grab your notebook, your iPod, the headphone splitter and our headphones, and a bottle of water. It's a bit of a bike ride. I just need twenty minutes or so to sober up a bit more from lunch before I hop on my bike."

With that, we packed a bag (Mafalda insisted on giving us some snacks, too), waited a little while for the wine to wear off further, and rode our bikes to the berm, where I took him to the water. We sat in the grass, transcribing music until it was time to head back for dinner.

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about my conversation with Vic. I shouldn't have outed Oliver like that to him. I definitely should not have told him the PG-rated version of our history. He had figured out on his own that we had been together, but I should have let Oliver answer that for him, not me. It was not my place to be telling Oliver's son intimate, secret details of Oliver's past. I also couldn't lie to Vic, even if I had said to ask Oliver, he would have seen right through me. I couldn't take back what I told him.

I was glad to have shared the berm with Vic, someone I care deeply about. Sometimes it was hard to work with him, through no fault of his own. When he smiled or laughed gently, it reminded me of how Oliver would act when we were alone back then. Ari and Vic were so different from one another, but I saw pieces of Oliver's personality in both of them. I wondered what they inherited from their mother, since Oliver's influence was strong. Oliver was still infuriating me, and I still didn't want to speak with him until he could make a decision about us, but I wasn't going to let that stand in the way of my friendship with Vic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who answered my question about the subscriptions yesterday! That was super helpful!
> 
> So, I think Noemie might be my favorite character to write besides Ari. Little kids are all id, and they're so cute.
> 
> I hope all of you in the US are having a great labor day weekend, and everyone else is having a nice normal weekend! Thank you for all of your continued support/comments/kudos!


	24. A Concrete Plan

_**POV: Ari, June 26, 2007** _

This morning, the rain deterred our plans of working outside with Pro, reviewing his journal article. The rain pattered against the window shutters, like the ticking of a metronome.

After reviewing the paper and making some edits (Pro even used some of my suggestions!), he left us in the office to work on some scanning and responses to paper correspondence. I tried to convince him to switch to email, alluding to the fact that no one writes letters anymore, not even my dad (except to the professor), but he said that some colleagues were even older than he was and had no idea how to use a computer.

I sat at a chair next to the desk, idly flipping through some papers, while Jasmine scribbled a response to a letter from Pro's seat. When she hunched over the desk, a bit of cleavage poked out of her tank top. I had to turn my head away to stop from staring.

"How do you like going to college in New York?" I asked her, moving some papers around in the pile. 

"I love it! It's so different from Detroit. I like not having to take a car everywhere. Everything is so bustling, and there's so much to do at all hours of the day." 

"That sounds awesome. I'm jealous, Brookline is so boring. Hell, even Boston gets boring." 

"I think I want to live in New York after I get my PhD. Hopefully a university in the city will hire me. The academic life in the city is so exciting. Also, I really like getting snacks at a bodega at 3am or getting midnight slices of pizza at Koronet. The slices are the size of your face."

"Yummmmm, pizza," I said, jokingly drooling over the thought of gigantic slices. "I'm actually thinking about applying early decision to Columbia. It was my favorite of the schools we toured, my parents both got their PhDs there, and I love the idea of being in New York. Though Dad is trying to push me toward Harvard because he went there for undergrad and it's close to home. I did like Princeton a lot when we visited Elio, too, but I think I'd rather be in a bigger city. Maybe Penn? Philly seems nice. But I'm still leaning toward Columbia and being in New York." I realized how much I was talking, and not giving her a word. "Sorry for blabbering," I added, hanging my head down.

Jasmine smiled at me, which made my stomach do flips. Whenever she smiled, she got these small creases under her eyes and her dimples were more prominent. "No, it's okay, it's fun hearing your internal monologue. I like knowing what you're thinking about." I couldn't see my face, but I was sure my ears and cheeks were the color of a ripe tomato. "So why are you interning with professor Perlman this summer? You don't seem to have any prior knowledge of classics. Not that it's a bad thing, he's a great instructor." 

"Well, my guidance counselor said I needed something to set me apart from other college applicants, and as you know, my dad was in your spot 20 years ago, so he and Pro are still close. I emailed him to see if he'd take me on, and here we are. Also, Vic and I thought it would be good for our dad to spend the summer with Elio."

"I guess they were close when your dad was the summer student, even if they're rocky now?" Jasmine said.

"If I tell you this, you can't tell anyone about it, other than Vic, okay? Do you promise?" I said. Jasmine came over to me and extended her pinky.

"I pinky swear." We locked pinkies and laughed about how silly it was. Chills ran down my spine after her brief, gentle touch.

I told her an abbreviated story. "... They were secretly together when my dad was the student here... They don't know that we saw them make out at the bar mitzvah... Vic saw them spooning in Princeton... The main purpose of coming here was to get my dad to get together with Elio. He's been so sad since my mom died, and we think that Elio is the only one who would make him happy."

Jasmine sniffled, wiping the tears that had started pooling in her eyes. "Ari, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard. You two are so adorable! I love that you're both okay with your dad being in love with a man, and are trying to set them up."

I placed my face in my hands, in an attempt to hide how embarrassed I was. "I just want my dad to be happy, and anyway, Elio is really nice. He's been crazy for my dad for twenty years."

"So what's the plan? How are you going to get them together?" 

This was something I had been thinking about a lot this week. How were we going to push them together if they weren't even speaking? Were we in over our heads? "I have Vic trying to get some information out of Elio, but otherwise, we have no idea. We figured things might just happen when we got here. We didn't anticipate that they'd have a fight the first night and stop speaking, and then make everything super awkward."

"Ari! You need to make a concrete plan! You need to figure out ways to get them into situations alone with one another where they have to remember how much they like each other and want to be together. I'm going to help you do that, sounds like a fun summer project. Nothing is more romantic than helping true love blossom." This was actually perfect. Vic and I knew nothing about matters of the heart, and a feminine opinion might just be the thing to help us.

We spoke for a while about ways that we could get them in the same place. Jasmine said they had to be reminded of things from their past, that would trigger happy memories.

"How do you know so much about romance and love?" I asked her playfully. "Lots of ex-boyfriends who tried to win you back?" 

She tilted her head bashfully. "I watch way too many romantic comedies. I've never actually had a boyfriend before. The high school I went to was not the kind of school you saw in a 90’s teen comedy, and I was the fat, nerdy, unkempt teacher's pet. Boys weren't exactly lining up." 

"Well, they didn’t know what they were missing out on, because you're great," I said, avoiding her eyes. 

"What about you?" She said, intentionally avoiding the compliment. "Got a girlfriend waiting at home? I bet you drive the girls in your high school crazy." There she goes, driving that wedge between us again, reminding us of the difference in our life experiences, even if our age difference was not that great (15 months. I calculated it).

"Nah, the girl I was seeing before summer wanted to be free to hook up with the other counselors at band camp, so we ended things pretty amicably. I've never had a 'girlfriend' per se, just the girl I'm chilling with at the given moment." I figured it was better to be totally honest with her, didn't want to get caught in a lie and embarrass myself. Plus, Jasmine was the first girl I felt truly comfortable talking to like this, and didn't feel like she was judging me. Maybe it's because she's in college and was more mature than the girls in my school. 

"And he chills with a lot of girls," Vic said standing in the doorway. How long had he been standing there? 

"That's not entirely true," I said, trying to save my ass.

"Let's see... Your sophomore year there was Amanda, Tina, Mei, and Shira, then this past year you were seeing Jessica, Bianca, Priya, Paige..." I turned around and gave Vic the dirtiest look. "But none of them were serious!" he added, afraid that I would hurt him.

"Wow, someone plays the field!" Jasmine said jokingly.

Vic came into the room and sat on the couch. "Jasmine, do you mind if I talk to Ari alone for a second? It's about a... project we're working on together." 

"Is this about Dad and Elio? I just told Jasmine about it,” I said to Vic.

“It’s so sweet that you’re trying to get your father and Elio together,” she said. “I don’t know of any other teenage boys who would do that for their father.”

Vic asked me to turn on my laptop and open Google maps. “So, I did some digging yesterday.”

I waited for my computer to boot up and opened the browser. “What did you find out?”

“Remember how Elio had a lot of wine with lunch? While he was tipsy, I tried to trick him into talking about his history with Dad. I asked him if he played piano a lot for Dad when they were together, and he said that he did, that Dad loved listening to him play, and then he realized what he’d told me.”

“ **VIC!** You weren’t supposed to let him know that you knew! This is bad, they’re going to know what we’re up to, now! I was way more subtle when I got it out of Dad!” I said angrily.

Jasmine scrunched up her face - it was so adorable, I couldn’t take it - and said, “No, this could be a good thing. What did you learn, Vic?”

“Thank you, Jasmine. He told me not to tell Dad that he told me, he thought dad would be mad about it, so I think we’re probably fine. He told me about how they got together, about their relationship, and then I convinced him to take me to the berm, his secret spot, where he took Dad when they had their first kiss. That’s what I wanted to show you on the map.”

Vic grabbed my computer, and showed us the route to the berm. “Okay, so, he told Dad how he felt about him for the first time here, in the town square, by that big statue for that World War II battle, Piave.”

“Piave was World War I, actually,” Jasmine interjected. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Continue.”

“And here,” he said, clicking around and showing us the aerial view, “is the berm. It was beautiful - there’s a little pond, and there’s this big grassy area under the trees. That’s where they kissed for the first time.”

“How did you get this all out of him? I have to say, bro, I’m actually impressed,” I said with a grin.

He shrugged, and said, “I asked nicely. I got him to take me there, which is why I know where it is.”

Jasmine drummed her finger on the desk, deep in thought. She looked so beautiful as she sat there, staring into the distance. How was I going to work with her all summer? Sometimes I thought she was even flirting with me, too.

“I’ve got it,” Jasmine said. “Why don’t we suggest that we go for a picnic somewhere, go for a bike ride or a hike and then picnic, and we have the picnic at the berm? If I’m the one who makes the suggestion, and I lead us on the bikes, they’ll be less likely to realize that we’re tricking them”

I considered this. This wasn’t a bad idea. Bring Dad and Elio back to the place where they first kissed, so they can think about kissing each other again. Gross, seeing them kiss the one time was bad enough, but necessary for our plan. I would love to kiss Jasmine. I needed to stop thinking about Jasmine right now. “How do we get them alone, though, if we’re going for the picnic with them?”

“You’ll just have to follow my lead once we’re there,” she said with a devious grin. I really liked this scheming, plotting side of Jasmine. "Vic, can you take us there tomorrow so we can learn the way?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys (and their new co-conspirator, Jasmine) have begun their parent trapping for real, now! They just needed Jasmine's intuition and brain to formulate an actual plan for them :)
> 
> I hope you all like where this is going!


	25. The Picnic

_**POV: Elio, June 28, 2007** _

For the past several nights, I debated crawling into bed with Oliver, apologizing for our fight, and asking if we could spoon as we slept, for nothing more than that. Each time I felt myself drawn to our shared door, I restrained myself, telling myself that it could only lead to me getting even more hurt than I was when I was seventeen.

I woke up each morning to the sound of Oliver returning from his daily jog with his sons. Vic had told me that he thinks he’s improving at running, but he still lags behind his father and brother. I told him that he should go for a run with me, instead, so he could feel like the superior athlete. Whenever I heard the shower turn on, I wanted to open the bathroom door from my room and surprise Oliver, hop in the shower with him, and let him fuck me against the wall. He used to love when I did that. It would probably just upset us both, now.

Mafalda rang the breakfast bell, and I went downstairs in a tshirt and my bathing suit. As usual, I ate my soft-boiled egg and a Nutella crepe. My father announced to us that he was giving Ari and Jasmine the day off, since he had to go to the university for several meetings and would not need their assistance.

“Ari, I know what we can do with our day off,” Jasmine said, sipping her coffee.

“Oh?” Ari said, grabbing the butter knife and spreading Nutella on a second crepe. That boy could eat and eat. “What’s your idea?”

“Why don’t we have a picnic! We can ask Mafalda to prepare a basket of food for us, and we can take a long bike ride and find a place to picnic! I’ve been meaning to go explore and get out for a longer ride. Hey Vic, do you want to join us?”

Vic smiled at being included. “YES! I’d love to come! Elio, can I have the day off?”

“Of course, Vic, enjoy yourself,” I said with a grin. Vic was so dedicated to his studies, was possibly the best student I’d ever had, and he wasn’t even getting graded for this. He deserved a day to go have fun.

“Hey, Dad, do you want to come with us?” Vic asked Oliver. “You keep saying that you want to spend more time with us.”

Oliver swallowed the bite of bread that he was chewing and replied. “It’s okay, you don’t want me there.”

“You can come with us, Dad. What else were you going to do today? Work? **BORING**.” Ari said, still chewing his crepe.

Oliver smiled at his sons. “Well, if _ARI_ is insisting that I spend time with you boys, then I guess I have to join. I have a couple of hours of work I need to clock today, can we leave in a few hours?”

“Sure,” Jasmine said. “Hey, Elio, do you want to come, too? You’re from here, so you can help us find a good bike path or find our way back if we get lost! I’ve already gotten lost a few times just on the property alone.”

Jasmine was a sweet kid, inviting me to tag along like a fifth wheel. “You should come, Elio!” Vic encouraged.

I thought about it. Since my lesson with Vic was canceled today, I had half of my day free. “Why not. I’ll do a little work after breakfast, and then I’ll be ready to head out.”

After breakfast, I went straight to the living room, and began playing the piano. Since I gave Oliver the ultimatum, I had hit a creative roadblock, and wasn’t able to compose anything good. Instead, I played some of my old pieces, to remind myself what I was capable of. I closed my eyes and listened as the music enveloped my ears. When I finished playing, I opened my eyes, and saw Oliver watching me play from the bottom of the staircase to our hallway. He smiled at me, turned around, and walked up the stairs.

I brought my laptop outside, joining Oliver by the pool. The kids were all in the pool, splashing around. We worked in silence for two hours, until the kids announced that they were all ready to go for our bike ride.

Mafalda made a picnic basket for us with plenty of food. Jasmine took the basket and attached it to her bike. Ari and Vic brought their backpacks.

Jasmine led us on her bike, and we all followed close behind. "How much further?" Vic shouted from behind. "I'm tired."

"We're almost there," she said, as she turned a familiar stretch of road. I couldn't believe this - she was taking us to the berm. Vic couldn't have told her about it, he didn't seem to know where we were or where we were going.

I took the picnic blanket out of my backpack, and Ari helped me unroll it.

"Elio, isn't this where we transcribed music the other day?" Vic said, looking around. I nodded in agreement.

Oliver looked at me, silently asking, " _Did you know we were coming here_?" I shrugged back, indicating it was news to me. He remembered the berm, he knew where we were. That made me happy.

Jasmine unpacked the picnic basket, taking out some fruit, cheese, and sandwiches that Mafalda has packed. God bless Mafalda. Vic and Ari both devoured their sandwiches before I even had time to unwrap mine. Oliver's sons, indeed.

Ari then took a bottle of wine out of his backpack, and took out four wine glasses. He poured one and handed it to me, and another to his father. He offered Jasmine a glass and she declined. He then put the wine glass he had meant for himself away, too. The girl was a good influence on him.

"Let's go swimming," Jasmine said to us.

"Oh no, I just poured the wine, we can't pour it back in the bottle, and it'll spill if they put the glasses down on the uneven ground. That'll just be a waste of good alcohol," Ari said. "Dad, I can take your glass and chug it."

"Dad, we can wait for you," Vic said sweetly.

"Don't worry about it, we'll be fine. We'll join you after we finish our wine," Oliver told his son.

Vic immediately kicked off his shoes, haphazardly threw his shirt to the ground and ran toward the water, Ari following right behind. Jasmine pulled off her shorts and left them on the blanket with her shoes, running in her one-piece bathing suit to catch up with the boys.

Oliver and I sat on the blanket, quietly drinking our wine and eating our sandwiches.

"How did Jasmine know about this place?" Oliver suddenly asked. We could hear the kids in the pond, but they were out of our sight line.

"I have no idea. I was a little bit surprised you remembered it."

"Elio, how could I forget this place? Did you think that I could ever forget our first kiss? Or the last picnic we had here? I still remember **everything**."

I smiled at him. How could I stay mad at that face? I was still telling myself I was holding to that ultimatum, but I could talk to him, I didn't have to give him the silent treatment. Especially here, in our place, with wine.

I kicked my feet out and took a more comfortable position, and drank more of my wine. "I'm sorry I haven't really spoken to you these past few days, I've just been... I needed my own time like you need yours."

Oliver nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry for how I treated you, I didn't realize I was hurting you. I would never want to hurt you. I was being selfish."

"You were, I won't lie. But it's okay, I understand why you've been that way. You're closing yourself off so you can't get hurt again. You're scared of being happy, and you know that you've been happy with me once, when we had an expiration date. Now that there is none, you don't know what to expect. I just want you to know that I never, ever plan on hurting you."

"I... I don't think you're wrong about any of that. I want to be with you, I don't want to be with anyone else. Why am I so afraid?"

I finished my glass of wine, and turned to face him. "I think you were always told that you shouldn't like men, and you knew that you couldn't find true happiness because you could never be with a man. Then we were together, and we had that, we were blissfully happy, briefly. You'd accepted that you'd never have that again. The thought of letting go, of finding and accepting that happiness, terrifies you. "

He nodded at me. "How do I get over this fear, Elio? I want to stop being afraid, stop making excuses. I want to be with you, so badly."

By committing to me. By kissing me. By loving me. I thought about what my mother said - that Oliver did care about me, and that I had to give him a little bit more time, as painful as it was. I took his hand and squeezed it. "I don't know. I think you need to work on yourself."

“I’m going to try. I promise I’m going to try. I just can’t start something with you until I feel emotionally ready. Otherwise, I'm going to fuck everything up and hurt both of us.”

We finished our wine, had a second glass, and watched the kids running around in the water, playing and splashing each other. We quickly fell back into our old patterns, and talked about the past, about this summer, about the book he was writing, about Vic's music lessons. Once we started, we couldn't stop talking.

Eventually, the boys and Jasmine came over to us, grabbed towels to dry off, and sat down to eat some snacks before heading back to the villa for dinner. As I watched him talking to his boys, helping them pack their things, I prayed that Oliver would be emotionally ready for me soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys and Jasmine have laid the first part of their parent trap! Oliver is still being stubborn, but he's slowly opening up to Elio.
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words on the past few chapters - I love hearing from you, and seeing what you think about the story! Hearing from all of you always brightens my day :)


	26. Fight for Him

_**POV: Oliver, June 29/30, 2007** _

_“Deep!” Elio beckoned. “I want you as deep inside of me as you can get.”_

_I thrust my hips upward, as he straddled me, lowering himself onto me, riding me roughly._

_“Harder, Oliver. I need you inside of me. I need this. You need this,” he said, as he rocked back and forth. I let him control the motions, I wanted this to be as pleasurable as possible for him._

_He ran his hand gently across my chest, and then across my lips. “Elio,” he moaned. “Elio, Elio, Elio,” he shouted, between punctuated screams, his face contorted in pleasure._

_“Oliver,” I shouted in return, smiling at him. As I was nearing orgasm, I started to hear a loud beeping noise. “Oliver, Oliver” I moaned, trying to drown out the noise, as the room began to fill with light._

Fuck. My alarm was going off, and it was time to get ready for a run with the boys. Another night, another wet dream about Elio. It wasn’t always the same dream. Sometimes he was on top of me, sometimes I was on top of him, sometimes we were pleasuring each other, but each time, we were engaged in some intimate activity.

After my run with Ari and Vic, I went back up to my room to shower. The door between the bathroom and Elio’s room was open, and he was sitting at his tiny desk, wearing only a towel around his waist, water dripping down his torso, wet hair plastered to his scalp. If he was trying to tempt me, it was working, because I wanted to step inside of his room, tug the towel off, and throw him on the bed. Not that I didn't usually feel that way when I looked at him in various states of dress and undress. Unfortunately, before I could do or say anything, Elio stood up, acknowledged that I was standing there, and closed the door so he could change.

How was I going to prove to Elio, and myself, that I was ready? I needed him. I still didn't know what was holding me back, but I still couldn't commit myself to any real intimacy with him.

* * *

Sammy had cleared out (okay, Anchise had cleared out) a storage room, and converted it into a makeshift office for Elio and myself. I think I preferred working in heaven, but an office was probably more productive. They had placed a long table in the room, where I sat across from Elio. I kept my laptop and books on my end, and, he kept an electronic keyboard that connected to his computer, which he used for composing, on his end. He used headphones as he played, so all I heard was the soft tap of the keys.

I had a few hours in the office by myself today, since Elio was working with Vic at the piano and was then going to work with him on music theory and transcription outside, at the same table Elio used to work at twenty years ago. I took a brief break, walking to the kitchen to get myself some coffee that Mafalda constantly kept brewed for us.

My break brought me near the living room, where Vic was sitting at the stool and Elio was sitting in a chair close to the piano. Elio pointed to something on the sheet music, and played a few measures. He then took Vic's hands, and placed them on the keys, fixing the way he splayed his fingers. Vic played the same phrase Elio just had, and it sounded identical to what Elio played. Both Elio and Vic grinned at each other, and Vic gave Elio a high five. I stood in silence for a few more minutes, leaning against the doorframe - they were both so entranced by the music they were playing and with their lesson that they never saw me standing there. Elio was so good with Vic, so gentle and warm, and he understood him in a way even I didn't.

Watching Elio with my son set my heart on fire. My future was sitting right there - Elio could be my lover, my partner, my husband, and could also be a loving and caring stepfather to my children. He had welcomed Vic so willingly into his life, could I let Elio back into mine in the way we both truly wanted?

As I sat in my office, contemplating a potential future with Elio, I heard a knock on the open door, which shook me from my fantasy. “Elio?” the voice said, in a thick French accent.

“Elio’s in the living room with Vic,” I said. The woman stepped inside the room, and I recognized Marzia immediately. Her voice had gotten a bit huskier, either from age or from having birthed a child (Deb’s voice changed after her pregnancy with Vic). “Marzia! It’s been such a long time! It’s good to see you!”

She came into the makeshift office, shook my hand politely, and said “Oliver, good to see you as well.”

“How have you been? I hear you met my son in town and had lunch here the day I was out at the university. Elio said you’re married and have a daughter now!”

“I did. I met Ari and Jasmine in town. Ari was sweet with Noemie, who is outside in the pool with my husband, Thierry, right now” she said. “How long will Elio and Vic be in the living room? I do not want to interrupt their lesson.”

“Oh, you knew he was giving Vic piano lessons? Of course you did…” I looked at my watch, and said, “Probably a little under an hour.”

“Good, then I can talk to you,” Marzia said, sitting in Elio’s desk chair.

I was intrigued. Beyond exchanging greetings in passing, Marzia and I had never really spoken my last summer here.

“We need to talk about Elio,” she said.

“What about Elio?”

She leaned forward on the table, and gave me an angry look. “Do not play games with me. You know what I am talking about. Elio has been crazy about you since he was seventeen. Since you kissed at Vic’s party, he has put his life on hold, hoping that you would come to your senses and finally get together with him.”

I could feel my ears turning red. It was still very uncomfortable to talk about my relationship with Elio with anyone, especially with his best friend and former lover. “I never asked him to do that. I encouraged him to date other people, told him that I wasn’t ready to be with anyone. My wife had just died.”

“And I am very sorry about that, it is a tragedy for your family. But she has been gone for a while now, and you have been stringing Elio along for the better part of a year. Stop telling him how much you want him and then pulling back. It hurts him immensely. He cares about you so much.” Her English had vastly improved since she was a teenager.

“Marzia… I would never, ever want to hurt Elio again. That’s why I’m afraid to let things progress - what if I hurt him even more? What if we do get together? What do we do at the end of the summer, when we can’t be with each other every day?”

“Stop being a chicken. I know you want Elio just as much as he wants you. He is the best person in the world, and you are taking him for granted. Stop pushing him away and just go for it. Otherwise, I can promise you, he will not wait around forever, and you are going to lose him” Marzia said.

“I… I don’t want to lose him. I never want to lose him again.”

“I know that you are scared to commit, but if you do not want to lose him, you have to make the commitment. If you cannot, I promise you that I will encourage him to move on and find someone new. And he always listens to my advice. I want him to be with you, you make him happier than I have ever seen him, even if I still resent you a little for taking him away from me. Fight for him. You have to fight for him.”

Suddenly, a small child ran into the room screaming, “Maman! Maman! Oncle Elly joue du piano! Allons-y!”

“Oliver, this is my daughter Noemie. Noemie, this is Oncle Elio's friend Oliver. He is Ari's father,” she said. Noemie smiled bashfully and waved. “Do you want to see Oncle Elio playing the piano, Noemie?”

Noemie jumped up and down excitedly, water dripping from her bushy hair and bathing suit all over the room. “We will see you later, Oliver. Think about what I said.”

* * *

During dinner, Vic handed me a flier for an event happening in a few nights, a few towns over. “Dad! Carmela gave me this flier when we stopped in for gelato today, can we go!”

Since the flier was in Italian, I wasn’t quite sure what it said. I handed it to Annella, who translated it for me. “An opera company is touring around Italy, and is going to be doing a performance of selections from _La Traviata_ with live musical accompaniment. It’s free, in the park, and open to all ages. It says to bring a lawn chair or blanket.”

I nodded at Vic. I couldn’t say no. “Sure, why not.”

“That sounds like so much fun! I love going to see the Metropolitan Opera when they do free performances in Central Park!” Jasmine said. “Mind if I tag along?”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. Elio, why don’t you borrow the Fiat and drive them all? I’m sure you’d enjoy this, as well.” Sammy suggested.

Ari, who had zoned out at the word “opera”, immediately chimed in. “Dad, can I go, too?”

Vic snickered. “Since when do you like operas? Didn’t you once say they were a ‘total snoozefest’?

“I never said that! And I’m in Italy, I should take advantage of the culture” Ari said, scowling at his brother.

“Elio, do you mind driving us?” Vic asked.

“Of course not, Vic. I’d love to take you,” Elio said. He was looking at me, and when we made eye contact, he swiftly turned his gaze away.

* * *

After dinner, I lay in bed on my laptop, working on a syllabus for next semester. I heard a knock on the door, and Vic poked his head in.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

“Of course, Pup, come in,” I said, patting the edge of the bed for him to sit down. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering, are you Facebook friends with Abigail Wasserstein’s mom?”

“Trudy? I think so, why?”

“Did you see that she has a boyfriend now? Abby posted pictures from their trip to the Cape.”

Trudy’s husband, Dale, had passed away last year from pancreatic cancer, about a month after Deb’s death. Vic grabbed my computer and opened Facebook to show me.

“Their vacation pictures look nice, Vic.” Why was he showing me this?

“So, I was thinking… Abby’s dad died after mom did, and her mom is already dating again. If… I think if you wanted to start dating again, I would be okay with it. I just want you to be happy,” he said, bashfully. I closed my laptop, put it on my nightstand, and gave Vic a hug.

“Oh, Pup,” I said, as he buried his head in my shoulder. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“I miss Mom, I miss her SO much, but I don’t want you to be alone. I think she would want you to find someone who made you happy, too,” Vic said.

“That’s really sweet of you, thank you,” I said.

We talked for a few more minutes, about the upcoming opera performance, and about his music lessons. Elio was helping him compose his own piece, which he was excited about.

After Vic went back to the attic, I thought about what he said. Both of my sons were now encouraging me to get out there and find someone who made me happy. If they were ready, maybe I could be, too.

* * *

The next day felt like it was dragging even slower than the days before. I barely got any research done, and kept reading the same page over and over in the book I was using for my research.

All I could think about was what Marzia said, and then about my conversation with Vic.

Marzia was yet another person to tell me that I was hurting myself and Elio by pushing him away. I was incredibly nervous about progressing things, but I think I needed to tell him that I wanted a commitment, even if I wasn’t sure I could make things physical right away. Once things escalated to sex, I knew from last time that we would be hopelessly intertwined, and I needed to make sure that I was emotionally prepared for that.

After their morning lessons, Elio returned to the office before lunch. He sat at his desk chair, opened a notebook, and began scribbling furiously.

Suddenly, his laptop started to ring, and he was receiving notification of a video call. He answered it with a smile. “Hi Russ! How’s it going? What are you doing up so early?”

“Early? Sweetheart, I never went to bed! I’m good, though! Really good! The gallery opening was a success! How is Italy?” said the voice, whom I presumed to be someone named Russ. I was on the other side of the table, so I couldn’t see the screen.

“It’s good! My parents are good, the house is crowded, I’ve started composing.”

“The sun is suiting you well - you look really hot. Both literally and figuratively.”

Elio started to blush, and shyly brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You don’t mean that. I see you’re still at the Hamptons house.” The Hamptons… Sammy had said Elio was going to the Hamptons. Did he go with this Russ?

“I am. I’m missing you in my bed. And in my mouth. I really enjoyed our time here, I would love another go at that long, cut, hard co-”

“RUSS! I’m not alone here!” Elio said, sweating profusely.

“Well, it’s the truth,” Russ said. “I think we christened every surface in this house. I had to do a lot of scrubbing after you left.”

“Russ, I should probably go…”

The highlighter I was idly bouncing between my thumb and index finger went flying across the room, over Elio’s head. I got out of my seat to go chase it, and managed to catch a glimpse of the man on the screen. He was tan, had short brown hair and a receding hairline, and was wearing a tight tank top that showed off his muscular biceps. I quickly ducked down and out of the frame to grab my highlighter, and ran back to my side of the table, pretending I didn’t hear anything.

“Oh! Oh! Elio! Is that big hunk of man Oliver? Mister ‘I’ve been pining for him for 20 years, first and biggest cock I’ve ever had’? Did he finally get over his shit and fuck you silly?” Elio was clicking furiously, presumably trying to close the video chat. “I have to thank you, Oliver, for teaching Elio everything he knows. I was definitely the beneficiary of some excellent oral technique over the years, so I partially have you to thank for countless mindblowing orgasms.”

“Goodbye, Russ!” he said, slamming his laptop shut.

“So who’s Russ?” I said in a sing-songy voice.

“He’s my ex,” Elio said. “Remember the art dealer who used to send me dick pics? The one and only.”

“I thought you dated a few years ago? Not last week?”

“Oh, we did. He called last month and invited me to come out to the Hamptons with him for a few days before I left for Italy. We hadn’t spoken in a while, but he had a house there and wanted some company.”

I smirked at him. “So you went out there and helped 'christen the place'? Sounds like a fun vacation.” I was upset that he slept with someone else so recently, but I tried to hide it by playing cool. I couldn't actually be mad at him - we weren't together. He was allowed to sleep with whomever he wanted, I had encouraged it.

“Exactly,” he said sternly. “He was open with me about what he wanted, and followed through. I had a few days of no strings attached fun.”

I hung my head down. I know that I had told him that I needed more time, so he was free to sleep with other people, especially before we got to Italy, but it hurt thinking about him with someone else.

“So, am I really the… biggest you’ve ever had?”

“Look at you, of course you are,” he said. "Best, too, honestly."

“Elio… I never told you, but a few weeks ago, I took your advice, and slept with someone. My colleague’s wife’s friend. He had been wanting to set me up with her for a while, so I met her for dinner, and things escalated very quickly that night.”

“And? Did it help you at all?”

“It did. It showed me that the only person I was interested in was you. All I thought about during and immediately after was you. The only person I want to be with is you.”

“Then why can’t you commit to me? I sound like a broken record. I can wait, for anything physical, but I need a commitment from you that we can be together. Otherwise, at the end of the summer, we’re done. That’s it, no more chances.” Elio shouted. He took a deep breath and continued, in a softer tone. "Sorry for raising my voice. I just had my hopes up for the summer, and it's not going how I had wanted. I want to be with you so badly, and it’s frustrating waiting for you to make a decision when I KNOW that you want to be with me, too."

I did want to be with him. I needed to make a grand gesture, show him how much he meant to me, and soon. Otherwise, I would lose him forever, probably before his end of summer deadline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words on the previous chapter! I'm loving your comments, and appreciate your kudos!
> 
> A couple of things you might find of interest. One, since we didn't go away as planned this weekend, we saw Straight White Men on Broadway instead! We found some cheap last minute tickets. My SO and I both thoroughly enjoyed it. Also, Armie moonwalking was amazing. I'd love to hear your opinions if you saw it! I think the show subconsciously affected my SO, because we were shopping the next day and he bought both the plaid shirt and colorful socks that Armie wears most of the show, without realizing. I thought if I pointed it out, he wouldn't buy them...
> 
> Second, I started a [tumblr](https://noodlekugel.tumblr.com) so I can follow and talk to you all! They don't let you use an underscore in your name, so I'm just noodlekugel on there. Follow me and I'll follow back! I'm still learning how to use it, so pardon me if I'm not doing things correctly on there.


	27. It's Our Secret

_**POV: Ari, June 30/July 1, 2007** _

After feigning interest in opera to impress Jasmine, and watching my dad and Elio stare sadly at each other some more, I needed to relax after dinner. Vic and I were going to need another plan, and soon.

Last week, Vic and I went into town, obviously to get gelato, but also to go to the bookstore to pre-order English language copies of the last _Harry Potter_ book, which was coming out next month. While at the bookstore, we struck up a conversation with a boy and girl my age. The boy spoke perfect English. His name was Rocco, and his aunt, Chiara, was friends with Elio. Rocco's dad, Chiara's older brother, was half-American, so he had taught Rocco how to speak English. We spent the afternoon with Rocco and his friend Pia. Yesterday, Rocco invited me to come hang out after dinner with the other neighborhood kids. I couldn't really communicate with them that well, but they gave me some pot, and they invited me to hang out again in a few nights. 

While Vic was playing clarinet for the dinner guests tonight, I excused myself and went upstairs. This seemed like a great time to dig into the stash Rocco's friend Giovanni gave me. I went into my room, rolled myself a joint with the papers Gio provided, and went out to the balcony to smoke. Usually Caleb or Zack would roll our joints at home, but I was able to do it myself in a pinch.

I thought I was alone, when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. "Where did you manage to find that already? Did you smuggle it on the plane?" Elio asked. 

"I... Shit, I'll get rid of this. Fuck," I said. 

"Don't worry about it, I was your age once." Yeah, when he met my dad. It was still really weird. The age difference between them wasn't so bad anymore now that they were both old.

"I met some neighborhood kids, they gave it to me. Can you not tell my dad? He usually doesn't care that I smoke, but it would be easier for him not to know," I said. He didn't really care when I smoked socially, but smoking alone is different.

"I won't tell him," he said. Elio leaned on the balcony, sighing deeply, looking obviously frazzled and distressed. "Hey, pass that to me."

This felt so strange. The man who could potentially be my stepfather wanted to get high with me. Was he testing me? Should I put the joint out? I listened to him, and I passed the joint to Elio. He took a puff and passed it back to me. "Why were you and my dad fighting last week?" I asked him.

He shrugged and said, "We didn't see eye to eye on something, and we needed time to recuperate. Being stuck in a car with him tomorrow won't help."

"I think if you two sat down and talked, maybe you could work things out," I said, taking another puff. "You two used to be good friends, right?"

"Yes, we were good friends once. Maybe that would work, Ari. I don't know." He leaned over the balcony again, took a deep breath, reorienting himself, and said, "I should get back down to my parents. Let's pretend this never happened." He grabbed the joint and slowly took one final go. "Don't tell your father I smoked with you. I definitely should not have done that, I keep doing and saying things I shouldn’t around you boys. You both remind me so much of your father that I forget you’re just children, and I've been having such a frustrating week. When I smelled the pot outside..."

"I get it. It's our secret," I said, as Elio went back inside, muttering to himself about what an idiot he was.

* * *

Jasmine and I were lying on towels in heaven, relaxing after an exhausting morning of work. Today, Professor Perlman had us filing his old correspondence. I would open the letter, figure out the last name of the sender, and Jasmine would find the file folder for the person. You’d be surprised how disorganized Pro’s drawers were - the folders were in no particular order.

After an hour of trying to understand his filing system, and realizing there was none, we decided to empty out the drawers and alphabetize the folders. This took all morning, but would help us in the long run.

Vic was still in his music lesson, so I asked Jasmine to put sunscreen on the places on my back that I couldn’t reach. As she rubbed the lotion into my back, I suddenly felt very nervous, and goosebumps were forming on my arms and legs. I played it off like nothing had happened. Afterward, Jasmine asked me to apply sunscreen to her shoulders. Her skin was so smooth, and I had to make sure not to let my hands linger for too long. I kept thinking about what Dad told me, to keep my distance and not get my hopes up, but damn, I really liked her.

We went back and forth, discussing things we liked and didn’t like.

“Favorite movie?” she asked.

“ _The Matrix_ , but only the first one. What about you?”

“I tell people it’s _Mean Girls_ , but… probably _Star Wars_ , specifically _Empire,_ ” she said, hiding her face under her book.

“ _Star Wars_! I didn’t peg you for a sci-fi nerd!”

“Shut up,” she said, throwing a towel at me. “It’s a classic! I used to watch it on VHS with my older brothers all the time when I was little.”

I turned on my side to face her and smiled. “No, it’s not a bad thing! It was just surprising! It's cute!”

“One year, when I was maybe four or five, I was Princess Leia for Halloween, my brother Julian, who was eight or nine, was Lando, and my oldest brother Jamal, who was about thirteen, was Obi-Wan. I know that Obi-Wan and Lando were from different movies, so don’t make that face. My mom got a kick out of making the costumes for us - it took her weeks. A few days before Halloween, Jamal decided he was too old for a costume, but my mom forced him to wear it and take Julian and me trick-or-treating, so he looks like a total grump in every picture. It took FOREVER to get my hair into the buns. If you think I have a lot of hair now, you should have seen me as a small child.” She ran her hand through her voluminous natural hair, indicating how difficult it was to maintain.

“I’d love to see the pictures - I bet you look adorable.” I could feel my cheeks turning red.

“Any interesting Halloween costumes from your past?” she asked.

I scratched my head. “I mostly just wore a Red Sox jersey and said I was a baseball player. Hmm.. when I was five or six, and Vic was two or three, I was Woody and he was Buzz Lightyear. There’s a picture of that hanging in my house in Brookline. I was obsessed with _Toy Story_ , and Vic was too young to pick his own costume, so my mom picked them out for us.”

"Your mom sounds like she was great, with the stories you and Vic tell about her," Jasmine said.

I nodded. "She was great. She was weird and funny and smart, and did everything she could to make sure my brother and I were happy. She was super lenient and trusting, too. Once I got to high school, Mom didn't care if I drank or smoked pot on weekends as long as I was responsible and kept my grades up. She and Dad once said it would be hypocritical to get angry about pot, since they both used to smoke a lot at my age, but their generation was different. They said to do it in moderation, and only on weekends. Sometimes she was embarrassing, even more than my dad is, but she was really cool. Did we tell you the story about the rap she wrote and performed at my Bar Mitzvah?"

Jasmine opened her eyes wide and shook her head. "No! That sounds mortifying!" 

"It was at the time, but it's funny to think about now, especially since she's gone. Instead of a speech thanking everyone for attending, she did it as a rap. Some of it was even freestyled. She rhymed my name with party, sorry and calamari. It was something like _'We're here to celebrate Ari/It's his Bar Mitzvah Party/If you keep kosher we're sorry/We're serving calamari.'_ My dad stood behind her with his arms crossed, nodding his head to her nonexistent beat, wearing sunglasses, while she took over the dance floor. I stood on the side, and I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. My friends all thought it was funny, though. She got a standing ovation."

She laughed for a few minutes, wiping a tear from her eye. "I think if my parents had done something like that for me or my brothers, we would have never spoken to them again. Also, my parents, especially my dad, are super strict. My brother once came home smelling like beer his senior year, and they grounded him for a month. I can't even imagine what they'd do if they had smelled pot. If you don't mind me asking, when did she die? Was it recent? You guys don't really talk about that." 

"Last February, a few weeks before my sixteenth birthday. She died in a car accident - there was a storm, and her car spiraled off the road on her way to work at MIT, and hit a tree. It was rough for a while, because we never really had a chance to say goodbye. Dad was really depressed, we had to all see a grief counselor for months. I think Dad saw a real shrink, too. My guidance counselor kept pulling me out of class to talk about my feelings. I don't know how helpful I found that, it's embarrassing to be constantly pulled from class," I said. I reached to the tray between us and took a sip of my apricot juice that Mafalda had brought for us earlier.

We talked more about our families. Her mom worked at a day care center, and her dad and brothers all worked for General Motors. She was the first one in her family to go to college, she was afraid of losing her scholarship, and was taking the most of every opportunity she's given, or for the most part earns. She didn't care about sports, but her brothers were obsessive Pistons and Lions fans.

Professor Perlman came outside to grab Jasmine after an hour or so. He wanted to go over some work she'd be doing. Jasmine said she'd see me later, and went back inside to change before her meeting with the professor.

I took a brief nap on my towel, and was awoken by Vic, who had just finished his lesson. "Want to swim with me?" he asked. 

"I was asleep, jerk" I said, stretching my arms above my head. Vic jumped into the pool, splashing me. I took my sunglasses off and jumped in after him, dunking him below the water for a moment. 

"Do you have any ideas what to do about Dad and Elio?" he asked. 

"Tonight is going to be difficult if they aren't speaking again - I can never tell, they run so hot and cold. I think at the concert, we need to find a time to make ourselves scarce and let them be alone. We'll see what happens from there, figure out more tomorrow after that."

Vic skimmed his hands along the top of the water, and said, "I hope this won't be too hard." We had no idea what we had gotten ourselves into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember what the book said about Chiara's sibling situation (she was half-American in the book, right?), so I decided she has an older brother. Was convenient for the sake of the story, and doesn't change Chiara at all. She'll make an appearance at some point.
> 
> Also, sorry about Elio smoking pot with Ari. It's a little out of character for him, but I wanted the two of them to have a secret bonding experience, and I figured Elio smoked pot with Oliver right before their first time, so in a moment of weakness, he'd have taken the joint from Ari, who resembles his father so much.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience with Oliver and with the story! I promise things will heat up really, really soon! The next chapter is a real doozy, and I think you'll like it...
> 
> Also, looks like I saw Armie on Broadway three days too early...
> 
> As always, thank you for your comments and kudos! I'm in awe of how many hits the story has gotten. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your support.


	28. A Grand Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title says it all...

_**POV: Oliver, July 1, 2007** _

I spent the day worried that Elio was going to reject me. Tonight, when we got home from the concert, I was going to tell him how I felt, and that I wanted to be with him. I went into town in the afternoon, getting something ready for tonight.

That evening, I met the boys, Jasmine, and Elio at the Perlman’s Fiat. We piled into the car, and I sat in the passenger seat (mostly due to height and age). Jasmine sat between Ari and Vic in the backseat.

“I’m so excited! _La Traviata_ has some really good pieces! Do you think they’ll sing _Brindisi_? That one is so much fun!”

I looked in the rearview mirror, and I saw Ari bite his tongue - he wanted to insult his brother, but restrained himself. Jasmine’s presence might be very helpful to keep them from going at each other.

Vic, Jasmine and Elio talked about their favorite opera pieces, while Ari and I remained mostly quiet for the short drive.

When we arrived at the park, Elio parked the car, and we traipsed onto the lawn. Elio and Vic set up the picnic blankets, while Ari, Jasmine and I went to a kiosk to grab pizza and drinks.

An older couple was running the kiosk - the husband manned the portable pizza oven and the wife took orders and handled money. We ordered enough pizza and drinks for the five of us and stood off to the side, waiting for our food, as we watched the evening sun turn into a sunset. The sky was a brilliant shade of pink tonight, that contrasted starkly with the green of the grass and surrounding trees. A sparse orchestra sat on the stage warming up.

As we waited for our food, a young man came over to us and gave Ari a high five. "Ari, how's it going?"

Ari smiled and said, "Hey, Rocco! I'm good! What are you doing here?"

"My parents made me take my younger sister, Elena. Some of the other kids came with us, too."

"Dad, Jasmine, this is Rocco. Vic and I met him at the bookstore a few days ago. Rocco is Chiara's nephew, I think you would have met her when you stayed here last time," Ari said. Jasmine smiled and shook his hand.

"Oliver," I said, extending my own hand.

"Is Vic here, too?" Rocco asked.

"Yeah, he's setting up the picnic blanket with Elio. You know Elio, right?"

"I've been to his parents' place many times. They invite my parents for lunch or dinner often. Hey, if you guys get bored, come find us, our blanket is over there, we've got room for the two of you and Vic."

Ari nodded. "That sounds fun, we'll see you in a little while." Rocco waved and walked away.

"I see you've had no difficulty making friends here," I said. Ari took after me in this regard. He could speak to almost anyone and become best friends in twenty minutes. He could charm even the hardest to crack person. One smile, and everyone fawned. I wasn't sure if he knew that he had this effect.

Ari shrugged. "What can I say? I've got a gift."

"Ulliva," the lady at the kiosk shouted. We grabbed our food and headed over to the blanket. Elio and Vic were deep in a conversation about what the orchestra was doing.

I sat on the opposite end of the blanket from Elio, and began distributing food and drinks. "Oh my God, this pizza is amazing," Vic said, mouth full of food. "How do they make it so good?"

"Vic, I ran into Rocco at the food stand, he asked if we wanted to join him. Want to go over there after we eat? They're closer to the stage, anyway."

"Rocco, as in Rocco Alfonso, Paolo Alfonso's kid?" Elio asked.

"He said he's Chiara's nephew," I said to Elio.

"Paolo is her brother," Elio replied matter-of-factly.

Vic finally swallowed his bite of pizza and replied. "I like where we're sit..." Ari jabbed Vic with his elbow. "Sure! Let me just finish my pizza and lemonade first." Rocco had invited Ari with Vic, so Ari probably just wanted to hang out with the other teenagers.

"You don't mind us joining them and leaving you both here?" Jasmine asked politely.

"No, don't worry about us, go hang out with kids closer to your age," I said.

The boys and Jasmine ate their pizza in record time and bounded off toward their new friends. "Meet us at the car when it's over, okay?" I said.

"Yes, Dad," the boys said in unison.

When the kids left, I lay on the blanket, looking up at the sky. "It's a beautiful night tonight," I mused to Elio. Elio was looking particularly handsome tonight, too. His lavender polo clung tightly to his slender frame, and at the angle he was laying, the shirt rode up and revealed just a glimpse of his hipbones. God, that was so sexy. His curls, slightly unkempt, were splayed across his forehead, and his eyes glistened, reflecting the sunset.

Elio shrugged and said, "Yeah, I guess."

"Look, I've been thinking about everything. About us." About Marzia's threat, and the fact that two weeks ago, Elio was fucking another man. About how I was about to lose the man I cared so deeply about. About how much I wanted to be with him I couldn't stand it. About how I couldn’t sleep at night because he wasn’t beside me. I couldn't lose him, I had to fight for him. I was just going to tell him now, not wait until later. He couldn't reject me that terribly in public, right?

"There is no us right now, though." I had hurt him badly, I couldn’t bear to see him in pain any longer. This was it, I was going for it. If I was going to be scared, be afraid of getting hurt, at least I would be with him, Elio guiding me through the pain and panic. He wanted to be with me, too, he'd already said as much.

"I want there to be an us. I want to be with you, Elio."

Instinctively, we each turned to face the other, as we continued to lay on the blanket.

"In the future? When you're ready? If so, what I said still holds, Oliver. I can't play your games anymore."

"No, now. I want to be with you now. I need to take things slowly, very slowly, but I want to be yours. I want you so badly, that it’s killing me. I am willing to fight for you, do whatever it takes."

He grinned at me. "Really? You're not going to pull away tomorrow, saying you need more time?"

"No. I'm yours. I want to be together. I just, I'm still... I don't want to screw this up by taking things too fast. I know you're ready for physical intimacy, but are you okay waiting for me?"

He nodded. "Of course. Of course I am, Oliver. That was all I needed to hear. We can take this as slowly as you need, together."

I took the watch I always wear off of my wrist and handed it to him. "I wanted to give you this, a piece of me, of my family's history. This was my Zayde's watch." I turned the watch over and showed him what I had gotten engraved on the back this afternoon. In Cyrillic, it had already said:

Oleg and Anna, 1926  
My sun, My soul

(Олег и Анна, 1926  
мое солнце, моя душа)

Below, I had the following written, in English and Latin today:

Elio and Oliver, 2007  
Cor Cordium

"Oleg and Anna were my Zayde and Bubbe, she bought him this watch right before they came through Ellis Island, from the Soviet Union, before they were married. I'm named after my Zayde, he died a few years before I was born. Bubbe left me the watch in her will, since I was her only male grandchild.

"This watch was her tangible promise to him that they would stay together, no matter what happened during their trip, there would always be a piece of her with him. They had heard horror stories of people being separated or sent back at Ellis Island, of people turned away because of quotas for Russians or Jews. They had survived the pogroms, lived through famine and poverty, had to hide their religion, and they would survive the trip to America together. They planned on marrying after settling with her cousins in a tenement on the Lower East Side. He wore this watch every day of his life after that."

Elio took the watch and examined the engravings. "Oh, Oliver... This is... You didn't have to..."

I smiled at him, and put the watch on his wrist. It was too large, and slid right off, so I put it back of my own arm for now - my wrist was much larger than his. "Maybe I'll wear this until we can get some links removed, we don't want to lose it... I wanted to do something to show you that I'm in this, I'm committed. Even if something happens to us, you'll always have something that was a part of me. I want to be with you, Elio."

"Oliver," he said, stifling a sniffle. That was about all he could muster right now.

“I need to take everything slowly, though. We rushed everything last time because we had a deadline, our time was limited, but now we have all the time in the world to get reacquainted, so I want to take time for it all. Savor everything, be emotionally prepared for everything. Are you sure you’re okay with that?” He laced his fingers with mine and squeezed my hand in consent. I smiled at Elio. My Elio.

“And you’re sure that you can do this? Be with me, be public? I… I… screw it, I will be your secret, if you want me to, but I want to have a real, adult relationship with you, if you can muster that.”

I scooted closer on the blanket, so our foreheads were touching. I ran my finger across his lips, slowly grazing the top lip and then the bottom lip, like I had before our first kiss, and held his cheek as I gently pressed my lips to his. We were surrounded by a few hundred other people. No one was explicitly watching us, and the kids were pretty far from here, but we were in a public place.

He returned the kiss delicately, his velvety lips caressing mine. I pulled away slowly as he nipped at my bottom lip, smiling softly. Elio involuntarily let out a disappointed grunt, not wanting to stop the kiss, but I needed to stop before it progressed into something more.

“Does that answer your question?” I asked, kissing him once more, chastely. I pulled away after a brief moment. “I think we’ll need to be discrete about this, for a couple of days, until I figure out how to tell my boys about it.”

Elio carded his fingers through my hair, letting his hands linger on my scalp. “I think that’s fair.”

“I just have to figure out how and when to tell them, they’ve both told me that they’re ready for me to date again, but the whole ‘tell my sons that I’m in a romantic relationship with a man’ situation is new ground for all of us, even if they both adore you.”

The orchestra began to play, and a few singers came on stage. We sprawled on the blanket, Elio curled up next to me, with his head on my chest and arm around my torso. My heart was racing excitedly, and I think he could hear every heartbeat. I idly played with his hair with one hand, and held his hand with my other, while we listened to the performances. He kept running his hand over the watch on my wrist, which would soon be his watch.

After the show, there was no immediate sign of the kids. We packed up our things, and went over to the car, loading the blanket into the trunk. Ari, Vic and Jasmine arrived at the car a few minutes later. Vic ran over to me and gave me a hug. “That was SO GOOD, Dad!”

Elio looked at Vic and said, “I think _La Traviata_ might be my favorite opera, now.” He turned to face me, and gave me a devious grin.

“I had a really good time! Thank you for taking us,” Jasmine said, opening the car door and settling into the middle seat.

“What about you, Ari, did you enjoy it?” I asked my older son.

“It was fun,” he said. There was no way he was actually paying attention to the opera. In all likelihood, he spent the entire time staring at Jasmine. “Rocco and his friends were cool, they invited us to go to a party with them in a couple of nights.”

“Can I go to the party with them, too, Dad? They said I can go if I wanted to! There will be kids my age there,” Vic said, excitedly.

I looked at Elio, trying to see if he had any input about these kids, but he just shrugged. “Sure, Vic. Why not. It would be good to make some friends your age in town.”

Elio drove back to the villa, and the five of us spent the car ride animatedly discussing the concert.

Back at the villa, after we said goodnight to the kids, Elio and I took the stairs toward our wing. He stopped when we got to the bedroom doors. “Should I… Do you want me… I can…” he said, stumbling over his words.

I grabbed his hand, and led him into my room. “If you want to, I want you to. I need to take things very slowly. But since we got here, I haven’t been able to sleep, knowing that you were ten feet away, and not sleeping in my bed, in my arms.”

We walked into the room and closed the door. Elio wrapped his arms around my neck, staring warmly into my eyes. “If I had less impulse control, I’d shove you against this door right now and tear your clothes off,” he said.

“I want that… I want you… God I want you so badly, but I need to take my time.” I was afraid if we rushed, I would screw everything up, and I wanted this to last, to be perfect. I took my watch off and handed it to Elio. "We should take this to the jeweler tomorrow to get it resized."

Elio went to his bedroom to get ready for bed. I stripped down to my boxers. I wanted to sleep naked with him, as we used to do, but that felt like too much, too soon. He came back in a tshirt and pajama pants. “I figured I’d err on the side of too much clothing,” he said, smiling when he saw my sleep attire. He immediately and haphazardly shed his shirt and pants, throwing them on the floor where he stood, and jumped into the bed, where I was currently sitting.

He lay on his side, and nuzzled into me, as we found the perfect spooning position. I wrapped my arm around his middle, and kissed the back of his hair, his neck, his shoulder blade. Elio purred contentedly, grabbing my arm and making my grip around him tighter. We soon fell asleep, and I got the best night’s sleep that I’d had in months, knowing that Elio was mine, and that he was in my arms, willing to progress things at my slow pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this one! I think you'll all like what's coming after this, too, but it takes a little while.
> 
> Quick notes:  
> Zayde (pronounced like the name Sadie, with a Z) means grandfather in Yiddish, like Bubbe means grandmother in Yiddish.
> 
> Pronunciation of the Russian: moh-YEH SOULN-tzyeh, moh-YA DOO-sha. The Russians were poetic, but no one ever said the language sounds pretty. Oliver's Bubbe and Zayde would have likely spoken Yiddish at home, but I think Russian Jews also spoke Russian. The Soviet Union was pretty anti-religion in general, but there were also specific anti-Semitic attacks, so they probably tried to hide their religion, much like Annella's Jews of discretion thing. I might want to get into this some more at some point. I chose to have the watch in Russian rather than in Yiddish (which uses Hebrew characters), partially for this reason. Also, Yiddish sounds even more guttural and nonsensical than Russian does.
> 
> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YYxzpzKchI> \- Brindisi from La Traviata. You've heard it before, just didn't know the name.
> 
> As always, thank you for all of your support, comment and kudos. I appreciate everything!


	29. Warm Fuzzy Pillow

_**POV: Elio, July 2, 2007** _

I woke up earlier than my body wanted, to the sound of loud beeping. I opened my eyes, and realized that I had spent the night in Oliver’s bed (in **OUR** bed), in Oliver’s arms. Could this be real? Did he really commit to me last night? Did he really give me his grandfather’s watch, with our names engraved below his grandparents’? We hadn’t talked about what this all meant, but all I knew was that I was the happiest I’d been in years, and we hadn’t even done more than briefly kiss the night before.

Oliver reached over me and groaned as he shut off the alarm. He then looked down at me, smiled, and said, “Good morning.”

“Wanna sleep, too early,” I muttered, pressing my head to his chest and closing my eyes again.

“I need to get up, Elio, I’m supposed to go grab the boys for our morning run.” He slowly pushed me off of his chest and onto his pillow.

“No, stay, need you as my warm fuzzy pillow,” I said, pleading with him. He sat up, leaned over, and kissed my lips gently.

“This warm fuzzy pillow has to go exercise with his sons. Go back to sleep, I’ll see you when I get back.” He got out of bed, rummaged through a drawer and pulled out gym shorts and a running shirt.

I sprawled across the bed, and the next thing I knew, I saw Oliver standing over me, drenched in sweat. I wanted to sit up and lick the droplets off of his face.

“I was going to jump back into bed with you, but somehow you managed to take up the entire thing,” he said.

“S’comfy,” I said, claiming the entire bed as mine, "but you're comfier".

“I’ll let you sleep a little more, I need to shower. I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast?”

I nodded, watching him shed his wet running clothes, walking into the bathroom in just his boxers. Why couldn’t he have taken those off, too?

I slowly began stirring, waking myself up for the day. I walked over to the window and looked outside. The sun was shining, and there was not a cloud in the sky. It was going to be a very good day. I went to my room, put on some clothes, and went down for breakfast.

Oliver got to the table soon after me, and took the seat next to mine. We didn’t say much, but I slid my shoe off and rest my foot on top of his, grazing his toes with the pads of mine. He reciprocated, using the ball of his other foot to massage mine. I liked our secret games, but I couldn’t wait until he spoke to his boys, so we could be publicly affectionate. I wanted to be able to hold his hand and kiss him at the table.

Jasmine was telling Ari a story about her college acapella group. They were both leaning toward each other, and she played with her hair while he nervously fiddled with a spoon, turning slightly pink when her hand accidentally grazed his when she grabbed for her fork. His crush was adorable, and I think she liked him, too. He reminded me of myself, at his age, when Oliver would sit at the table and talk to the dinner guests, or my parents, or me, and I would watch his every move, imagining what it would be like to touch that hair, kiss those lips, squeeze those biceps. Oliver just hid his attraction better.

My father had been inside on the telephone, and was the last to the breakfast table. My mother passed him the pot of coffee. “Jasmine, Ari, I just got off the phone with a colleague at the university, and they have some things for me to look over today. I thought it would be a good day to take the two of you to the library so we can do some research there.”

“Sounds great, Pro,” Ari said.

“Vic, do you want to go with us for the day? The university has a great collection of old musical instruments, and the music department has an exquisite grand piano I bet you’d love to get your hands on,” my dad said.

“That sounds amazing! Dad, can I go? Elio, is it okay if we skip our lesson again today?” Vic said, with sad puppy dog eyes. How could you ever say no to that innocent face? Oliver nodded, with his mouth full of soft-boiled egg.

I smiled and said, “Of course, I think you’d love to get a crack at that piano. I’ll spend my day composing, you should have fun at the university.”

“Should I bring my clarinet? My notebook? My camera?” Vic asked, excitedly.

My father chuckled at Vic and said, “You can bring your camera, but I don’t think you need the rest today.”

“Sweetheart, you should take them to that little cafe near the university, the one with the excellent mondeghili,” my mother suggested, sipping her coffee.

“Wonderful idea,” my father said. “We’ll stop there for lunch.”

* * *

Oliver and I spent the morning working in our office. I was playing on my keyboard with my headphones on, and I noticed that Oliver kept watching me play, smiling.

“What?” I said, taking my headphones off.

“Nothing, I just love watching you play,” he said. We heard the lunch bell go off, so we went outside for food. Oliver and I were the only ones there - my mother had gone to visit a friend when my father took the kids to the city. Mafalda served us grilled chicken salads, and told us that she’d be going into town to do some shopping this afternoon, and asked if we needed her to pick anything up. It seemed everyone else was out running errands, too. The villa was  _never_ this empty.

After lunch, Oliver and I decided to bring our laptops and books to the pool and work outside, since it was such a nice day. We changed into our swimsuits, Oliver swam “laps” for a bit (it hardly qualifies as a lap when the length of your body is nearly the length of the pool), while I stood in one corner, reading and annotating a score. Every few laps, he'd stop, give me a quick kiss on the cheek, and swim off again. We then sat on towels to dry off while we read. We worked in happy silence for another hour or two. I was looking over some emails, when I noticed Oliver humming to himself while he typed on his laptop. It was a familiar tune, and then I realized that it was one of the themes from my dissertation composition.

“What are you humming?” I asked him. I had never recorded the piece, and had never sent it to Vic, so I had no idea how he knew it.

“Hmm, it’s been stuck in my head for days.” He scratched his head, trying to place it. “Oh! It’s the piece your father gave to Vic to play on the first night, he said it was something you had composed. It was beautiful.”

My cheeks turned pink, and I smiled at him. I don’t think he knew that the entire suite was about him. “I wrote it as part of my doctoral studies, I spent so much time editing and playing and revising it, I haven’t really touched it in a decade.”

He closed his laptop, holding his computer under his arm. “Do you think you could play it for me?”

“Right now?” I asked, “Or some other time?”

“Why not now?” he said, heading inside. We went to the living room, and we placed our laptops on the coffee table. Oliver sat down on the couch, and I dug through a drawer, looking for the sheet music.

I played the piece for him, and it brought back every memory of our first summer together, every ounce of emotion that I put into this music. The first movement was meant to denote how I felt about myself, about my life, before Oliver was in it. My life was good, but was boring, and I didn’t know what I was missing. Then, I introduced what I called Oliver’s theme. It described how I felt the first moment I saw him, how I couldn’t really process my attraction for a while. Everything built to our first night together, how nervous and hesitant I was, but how perfect we were, how our bodies were meant to be together, how we became one with each other, became each other. Then, the music swelled briefly into a tense, minor key, showing the hesitation and confusion and self-loathing I felt the morning after, feelings I’d rather forget but were important in my development as a person. I then tried to evoke the feelings of romance, how blissfully happy I felt during those two weeks together. The music cut out, and then I began a ballad, how I felt after Oliver left, the depression I fell into for months after he told me he was engaged. Gradually, the music began to speed up, to the same tune as the first movement, in a different key, with Oliver’s theme intertwined. He may have no longer been in my life, but he fundamentally changed me for the better, made my life richer, impacted who I became.

After I finished playing, I slowly swiveled my chair around to face Oliver, who clapped for me. I got up and sat down next to him. “That was amazing, Elio. What did you say that piece was called?”

"I never did." I took Oliver’s hand, lacing my fingers with his. “ _Cor Cordium_ ,” I said, squeezing tightly.

Suddenly, he understood the piece, he understood everything I had poured into it, what every note, every tempo marking, every key change meant. He placed his head on my shoulder, and sobbed quietly.

“The assignment was to write about something that affected your life in some way, something that had the most impact on who you were as a musician, as a composer, or as a person. I chose you,” I said.

“I’m so sorry, about everything I put you through, then, now. I was awful, I am awful, and I don’t know if I can ever make it up to you.”

I squeezed him tightly with one arm, rubbing his back. I was glad we had come from the pool and were only wearing our bathing suits, which made it easier to access his skin. I used my free hand to wipe his tears with my thumb. “You’re not awful, Oliver. It’s okay, we are together, we’re here now. Everything that has happened to us, that we’ve done, has brought us here, to this moment, together.”

We were both overcome with emotions, memories of our past tangled with our present desire. Oliver gave me an intense look, his eyes slightly bloodshot from the tears, and pulled me in close for a kiss. Not a chaste, innocent kiss like last night at the concert, but a kiss filled with ardor, with want, with need, with affection. I returned the kiss with equal fervor, letting passion and instinct guide me. His tongue deftly entered my mouth, dancing with mine. As we kissed, and kissed, and kissed, I ran my hands down his torso, wanting to remember how every square inch of his body feels under my fingertips. There was just so much of him, so this was taking me a while.

I moved closer, sitting on his lap, and pulled away from the kiss slowly, so I could get better access to kiss his neck and chest. He tilted his head back, and I gently nibbled on his neck, careful not to leave a mark. “Mmm, that’s nice,” he said.

Then, I pushed him down so he was in a supine position on the couch. He did not object as I started placing kisses on his chest, down to his stomach, and over his thighs and legs, until I reached his feet. I knew he didn’t want to rush things, so I avoided anything underneath his swimsuit, which was already tented and wet with desire. Oliver extended his arms upward, beckoning me back, so I lay on top of him for a while longer, my clothed crotch grinding against his, kissing him. I was kissing Oliver. Oliver was kissing me. I still couldn't get over this.

I sat up, and he arched himself up briefly, placing a kiss to my tummy. We were both unbearably turned on, and I couldn't take it anymore, so I untied his bathing suit, and when he didn’t stop me, I pulled the suit off, throwing it on the floor. Oliver was naked, and vulnerable, and visibly twitching with desire. I scanned him from head to toe, remarking how sexy and submissive he looked in this moment.

I grabbed his cock, tugging gently, eliciting the deepest of guttural moans, and I watched precum seep out and slick his tip. “Sit up,” I told him, and he complied, his back against the couch. I knelt on the floor in front of him, spreading his legs and settling between them.

Before he had time to object, I took most of his length into my mouth. I retracted slightly, licking and sucking gently on just the tip. He grabbed my hair, digging his fingernails into my scalp, and muttered something incoherent as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

All I wanted was to give him pleasure, to let him know what he meant to me and how much I cared about him. I wanted Oliver to physically experience everything I was currently feeling and thinking about him.

As I slowly worked my way up and down his shaft, he throbbed at every touch, every lick. Suddenly, the front door to the villa creaked, and we heard Mafalda singing to herself, carrying groceries. “Shit!” I said, standing up. Oliver groaned, swearing under his breath. I picked up his bathing suit, threw it at him, and he quickly slipped it on.

“Do you… want to take this back up to the bedroom?” I asked him, running my finger along the fabric of his swimsuit, tracing his still visible erection.

He took a deep breath. “Elio… I… I think we’re taking this too fast. This was amazing, and I want this, oh GOD, I want this, but it’s too much, too soon. Can we just take a step back, and move things a little slower?” he said, frowning.

I started to babble incoherently. “I’m sorry I rushed things, you did say yesterday that you wanted everything to be slower and I agreed. I just got swept up in all of the emotions in my piece, and everything with you these past months, and you seemed so receptive...:”

Oliver pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “I’m not mad. I just need some space today, to clear my head, if that’s okay? I… I think we should hold off on anything physical until I speak with the boys and tell them, so we’re not sneaking around.”

“When are you going to tell them?” I asked. I didn’t know how much longer I could wait.

“Soon,” he said. “Very soon. I’m going to go upstairs for a little while. I’ll see you at dinner?” Oliver added, grabbing his laptop, holding it in front of his crotch as he walked away. I couldn’t help staring at his ass and thighs as he walked up the stairs. I wanted him so badly, and waiting for him was going to be slow torture.

I couldn’t help but think about the coincidence of how the morning after our first night, he sucked my cock briefly, to remind me of how much I had enjoyed the night before, and then slammed the door in my face before I had finished, and now, I had (unintentionally) left him high and dry. Maybe this was delayed karmic retribution.

When I had my bearings back, and my own erection had waned, I went upstairs to my room, changed into shorts and a polo, and grabbed my bike to head to Marzia’s. I needed to talk about what just happened.

* * *

I rode as quickly as I could to Marzia’s parents’ villa. Thierry opened the door and I panted, covered in sweat. I went inside before he could invite me in, and I bent over, taking sharp breaths, and asked where Marzia was.

"She's in the backyard with Noemie, let me get you some water and then you can go out there," Thierry said.

I followed him to the kitchen, waited as he poured me a glass of water with ice, and then let myself out back.

"Oncle Elly!" Noemie screamed  running over to me and hugging my leg. She was wearing a leotard and a tutu. I pat her head and went to sit with Marzia. "Can I show you my dance?" she asked me in French.

"Sure," I said, grinning.

Noemie ran around the grass, leaping randomly and shimmying at will. "I'm going to be a prima ballerina! Wasn't I good?" she exclaimed, running over to me and jumping onto my lap.

"Only the best dancer I've ever seen! I can't wait to see you perform with the Paris Opera Ballet!" I said, adjusting her on my lap.

"She is starting ballet in the fall, can you tell she's excited about it?" Marzia said.

I took a deep breath. "So... I have some news on the Oliver front," I said. "Big news. BIG."

Marzia nearly dropped her wine glass. "Noemie, go inside and play with your father," she said.

"No, I want to sit on Oncle Elly's lap!" she shrilled in my ear.

"It's okay, I can cover her ears when necessary," I said, smirking.

Marzia picked up a fan, unfolded it, and began fanning herself. "So? What happened? I need details!"

I filled her in on my past twenty-four hours. "... He gave me the watch his grandmother gave to his grandfather, which he had engraved with our names on it underneath his grandparents' names, and then Oliver kissed me."

"Elio! That's amazing! What made him finally come to his senses?" Marzia exclaimed.

"Oliver kissed you? I met him! He's TALL." Noemie said.

"He is tall, Noemie, and very handsome, isn't he?" I said dreamily, bouncing her on my knee.

"He has nice hair. Ari has the same hair." Noemie mused. "Did you get cooties?"

"No cooties." I turned to Marzia, addressing her. "He said that he doesn't want to lose me, and is afraid of fuc... Messing everything up, but that he wants to be with me and only me. And then he invited me to spend the night. Before you freak out, it was just sleeping and cuddling, like in Princeton."

"You got my hopes up, Elio!"

"I'm not done yet! Today, we were the only ones home, and I wound up playing my piece about him, the one I wrote for my dissertation, for him. We got kind of swept away in the emotions of it, we made out, and then..." I covered Noemie's ears, "I started giving him a... Well, you know... I just couldn't help myself, he's just so... Ugh. But then Mafalda came home and spoiled the mood."

"Sounds like that one time you did that for me and she walked in. Did she see anything?"

"No, we just heard her come into the house and stopped. He said he needs to take the day alone, that we were moving too fast."

Marzia laughed. "I guess you did rush into everything last time... But you already... Know each other, so what's the harm?"

"I want him so badly, Marzia. At least he's committed to me, but this waiting... How do I sleep in his bed again without..." I censored myself for Noemie's sake.

"You're going to sleep in Oliver's bed? How do you fit? I'm little, and there's barely room for my teddy and the dolly you gave me for Christmas on my bed. Oliver's so big! Maman says papá takes up too much of her bed, too" Noemie said.

Marzia hummed, thinking about my situation. "You'd be surprised how much of a bed Oncle Elio can take up, sweetheart." She turned to me. "I think you can't pressure him into anything, as much as you want it."

"I know. I just hate waiting, now that I know he's mine. How is it possible to be this happy and this anxious at the same time?"

I spent the rest of the day and evening at Marzia's, drinking with her and Thierry, having a tea party with Noemie, and eating dinner with her parents. I called my parents and told them I'd be missing dinner. I figured I'd give Oliver some space to breathe. By the time I got home, I poked my head into Oliver's room, and he was already asleep. I decided to sleep in my room tonight, to not disturb him. Tomorrow would be another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you were all so excited after the last chapter! I promise that it's going to be a lot less angsty from here on out.
> 
> I hope you've all calmed down some after all of these pictures from TIFF :P
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words on the last chapter, and thank you for the continued support! You are all awesome.


	30. Seven Minutes in Heaven

_**POV: Ari, July 3/4, 2007** _

After a morning of working with the professor, scanning things and working on his article for publication, Jasmine and I relaxed side by side on towels in heaven. Well, I relaxed, she was reading and outlining a book for a paper she was writing with Professor Perlman. She was so studious, and she made me feel lazy, even when I was doing work. Jasmine wore a bright green one piece, which complemented her dark skin tone nicely.

Vic came outside a little while later, and sat in a pool float, drinking apricot juice. We didn't have this stuff at home, and it was amazing.

"So, what's our next move? The berm and the concert got Dad and Elio talking again, but I think we need something bigger," I said, moving to the pool and sitting on the edge, idly kicking my feet in the water.

Jasmine sat up on her towel and faced us at the Pool. "Maybe we literally need to take a page from _The Parent Trap_ , and recreate a date. They'll remember how they fell in love. Ari, did your dad ever give you any useful details? Vic, what about Elio? Did he ever tell you anything?"

Vic floated around the pool, thinking. "We already took them to the berm, where they kissed the first time... OH! Elio told me how they got together! I wrote everything down in my notebook right after he told me, like you said to do, Ari!"

"Go get your notebook, then! Why didn't you tell us before?" I said, half angry and half excited.

"Dunno, forgot," he said with a shrug as he jumped out of the pool, put his shoes on and ran back to the house.

While he was gone, I said to Jasmine, "Sometimes I think he forgets why we came here."

"You're too harsh on him sometimes," Jasmine said. "He looks up to you, and he's just a kid. I know what it's like to be the youngest, it's hard to please everyone."

I was so embarrassed. I didn't want Jasmine to think I was a terrible person. Was I a terrible person? "Am I really that mean to him?"

"No," she shook her head. "You're often very sweet with him. I just think you get frustrated with him easily, when he's trying to help and impress you. He loves you."

"I'll have to be more mindful of how I treat him," I said, nervously running my hands through my hair. Vic came running back with his notebook, moving as fast as he could, which admittedly had been improving with our daily runs with Dad.

"Here's the notebook," he said panting. "Look, I wrote down everything he said. I tried to get the notes verbatim."

"What notes?" Jasmine asked.

"Right," Vic said, a bit frazzled. "After they kissed, Dad started avoiding Elio, so Elio wrote him a note and slipped it under his door. It said," Vic flipped to the page with his notes, "' _Can't stand the silence, need to speak to you._ ' Dad left him the note on his desk, and wrote his reply underneath, ' _Grow up. I'll see you at midnight_.' "

"What happened after they sent the notes?" I asked, not sure if I really wanted to know.

"Elio smiled and said they were inseparable after that until Dad went home two weeks later."

"Aww!" Jasmine said. "That was probably their first time."

" **Eww**!" Vic and I shouted in unison.

Jasmine started laughing hysterically. "You've been trying to set your dad up with Elio for months, but one mention of sex and you're both grossed out? What did you think was going to happen if they got together? That they'd hold hands and skip through a field together?"

"Ugh, I just don't want to think about my dad having sex with anyone, male or female," I said, sticking out my tongue. "Seeing them make out was bad enough."

"How do you think you two came to be, if you don't want to think about your dad having sex. Did the stork deliver you to your mother?" Jasmine said sarcastically.

Vic turned red, and I said, "I prefer to think it was immaculate conception."

"Okay, Mr. Jesus Christ, we still need to come up with a plan. Do you think it would be bad if we sent each of them a note like the ones they sent? Or is that too much tricking? Jasmine said.

"Drastic times, drastic measures," I said.

"Dad will probably be mad at us," Vic said.

"How mad can he get? We're just making the process quicker. I think if we sent a note, it would need to be similar to the one from twenty years ago, but not require a reply. Otherwise, they'll figure it out before they meet," I added, thinking about the ramifications of this trickery.

Jasmine nodded. “What about… ‘ _Need to speak to you. Your room at midnight_.’ That gives the instruction, references the original note, and needs no reply. We’ll write ‘ _your room_ ’ on the note to your Dad, and ‘ _my room_ ’ on the note to Elio.”

“You are brilliant! This is perfect! Now… I can forge Dad’s handwriting pretty well, I’ve been signing his name on permission slips and notes about me getting detention for years. What about Elio?” I said.

“How well do you think they actually know each other’s handwriting?” Jasmine asked.

“Not sure, but we can’t take any chances,” I said.

“I have Elio’s handwritten notes on my sheet music. Can one of you trace that?” Vic said.

“I can do it,” Jasmine said. “Just give me some of your music and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Perfect!” I shouted. “Should we write the notes today, and slip them into their rooms tomorrow morning?”

“I can put the notes under their doors when you’re out for your run,” Jasmine decided.

“That sounds great. I’m going to go inside and practice clarinet and oboe. Should I bring you the sheet music before dinner?”

We nodded at Vic, who scampered off back into the villa.

“Do you think this is going to work?” I asked Jasmine.

She smiled, her pearly white teeth glistening in the sun. I could stare at her for hours. “I certainly hope so! If not, we’ll keep trying.”

We spoke for a little longer about other ways we could force Dad and Elio to interact, including locking them in a room together and not letting them out until they talk out their issues. “My parents used to do that for my brothers and me when we were kids, and wouldn’t let us out until we stopped fighting. I don’t fight with my brothers as much now that they’re both real adults with real jobs and I’m in college. Being in New York during the year, and here this summer, I actually miss them a lot.”

“Do you think I’ll miss my dad and Vic when I’m at college, hopefully at Columbia?” I asked.

“Of course you will, even if you’re ready to leave the house now. I call my mom pretty much every night from school. It’s been expensive to do that from here, so we email every day now.”

“I think I’m going to miss it here, too. My dad’s a good cook, but he’s got nothing on Mafalda.” I was going to miss her cooking so much when we got back to Massachusetts.

“When you’re at Columbia next year, we’ll have to take a trip up to Arthur Avenue in the Bronx, I’ve heard it has better and more authentic Italian food than Little Italy. Maybe we’ll find something that comes close to Mafalda’s cooking,” Jasmine said, grinning.

“That sounds great! It’s a date,” I said. I probably shouldn’t have said that, and suddenly I felt dizzy. She was either going to ignore what I said, or turn me down and tell me that I’m too young, too immature for her.

“It’s a date,” she said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Now, you just have to finish your Columbia application. How is your essay going?”

“Not well. I hate everything I write. Hopefully I’ll have something good by the end of the summer.”

* * *

After dinner, Jasmine, Vic and I changed into nicer clothes, and took off for Giovanni’s house. We had written the notes and left them in Jasmine’s drawer, and she was ready to slip them under Dad’s and Elio’s doors tomorrow morning.

Vic and I both wore button-down shirts and khaki shorts (Annella commented that we must have inherited our style from our Dad), and Jasmine wore a magenta dress that was fairly low cut. I made a mental note to not stare at her chest all night, which was going to be difficult.

When we got to Gio’s family’s villa, the music was already blasting, and kids were scattered everywhere, drinking beer and cocktails. Everyone at the party ranged from about 13 to 19 - it was basically every young person in the entire town. Gio’s parents were out of town for the next few days, and his older sister took him into town to buy enough alcohol for the party so that they didn’t have to dig into their parents’ stash. We found Rocco and Pia, and said hello.

Rocco took us over to the bar and mixed us drinks. Jasmine and I each took a cocktail, and Vic shook his head, saying no. “I did not have a good experience the last time I was drunk,” he said. I laughed, thinking about the Bar Mitzvah.

Gio soon beckoned everyone into the living room, where we were going to play some games. Not everyone spoke English, and we barely spoke Italian, so Rocco translated for us. Giovanni wanted us to sit in a circle so that we could play spin the bottle. Pia ran to the kitchen and grabbed an empty wine bottle, and brought it back.

“I’ve never actually played this before, I never got invited to fun parties in high school,” Jasmine whispered to me.

Vic sat next to me, staring at the ground, turning white, looking very nervous. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this, buddy. It’s just a stupid game.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just… I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he said. I laughed - I obviously already knew this.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” I said.

Someone announced some rules in Italian, and I had no idea what was said, but I’d played spin the bottle enough times to get the gist of it. Gio spun first, and landed on Rocco. They gave each other a quick peck on the lips, laughing. “I guess it’s an equal opportunity game?” I whispered to Jasmine.

Pia spun, and landed on me. She kissed me, and her lips lingered for a bit longer than I would have liked, since Jasmine was watching.

It was Jasmine’s turn next. The bottle landed on Rocco. “It’s my lucky day!” he said, crawling over to Jasmine, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. She giggled, and handed the bottle to Vic.

He nervously spun the bottle, closing his eyes. When he opened his eyes, the bottle was pointing at Elena, Rocco’s younger sister, who had recently turned 14. I smiled at Jasmine - this was the perfect person for his first kiss. She was sweet, and age appropriate. Elena crawled to Vic, placed her hand in his mess of curls and waves, and pressed her lips to his. He returned the kiss, his eyes closed. He opened them when she pulled away, and he was grinning widely. “Way to go, buddy,” I whispered to him.

The game continued for a while. On my first turn to spin, I landed on… Vic. Everyone laughed. “I think I get to spin again if it lands on my brother, right?” I said. Gio nodded, and I spun again. Silently, I kept thinking, land on Jasmine, land on Jasmine. The bottle pointed at Rocco. “Am I in the lucky seat tonight? Is the bottle weighted?” he asked. Rocco came over to me and planted a wet one on me, exaggeratedly opening his mouth and sticking his tongue into my mouth, in hopes of amusing everyone. We had a good laugh about it.

The game continued. Somehow, Vic got kissed by nearly every girl in the room, including Jasmine (who gave him the most sisterly of pecks on the cheek), but I had not kissed Jasmine yet. On her turn, she faced me and said, “wish me luck!” She spun enthusiastically, and it finally, FINALLY, landed on me. I smiled at her, and she scooted toward me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and kissed me. The butterflies in my stomach were out of control. We kissed for much longer than the game encouraged, and she even slipped me a bit of tongue before pulling away. I don't think she did that for anyone else. This was very, very promising.

“Get a room!” Rocco shouted. “Speaking of, we should play seven minutes in heaven!”

"How do you guys play that here?" I asked, wondering if European rules were different.

Rocco grinned. "We'll put names in a hat, and whomever we pick gets to choose who they take into the coat closet with them, guy or girl." That seemed fair. I was excited. I already knew that if my name was pulled, I was choosing Jasmine.

Everyone wrote down their name and put it in Gio's fedora. Of course he owned a fedora. We all got more drinks while he took a few things out of the closet so there was room for two people. Jasmine, Pia, Rocco and I took shots of something we couldn't see the label of, but it was strong. I was definitely tipsy by now.

We went back to the living room, and Gio pulled the first name. "Elena!" he called. She turned pink, scanned the room, and said, "Vic." Vic stared at me, confused. "Go with her!" I said. "You'll just sit and talk for seven minutes. You don't have to do anything with her. The door is closed, no one will know what is happening." He nodded, took Elena's extended hand, and went into the closet.

Gio turned the music back on and everyone danced. I danced with Jasmine, jumping up and down to _Stronger_ by Kanye West. After the seven minutes were up, Gio opened the door and Vic and Elena came out. Vic was smiling - I wondered what happened? Elena took him by the hand and dragged him to the dance floor, and started dancing with him.

The next couple was made of two girls I met today. They had already been making out on the dance floor, so no surprise they chose each other.

Over the next hour, various couplings of various genders went into the closet, some people chosen more than once. Then, while I was playing flip cup (I had taught everyone how to play, apparently it's a very American game), my name was drawn. I chose Jasmine, and we headed into the closet.

We sat on the floor awkwardly. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," I said. "I'm just playing along here."

"I... I really want to. If that's okay, if you want to..." she said, shyly looking down. I nodded excitedly.

We moved as close to each other as we could, and she placed her hand on my cheek, kissing me gently. I opened my mouth slightly, seeking her tongue with mine. In no time, we were full on making out. She wrapped her hands around me, running her hands up and down my back. I tried to stay good, and kept my hands firmly planted on her upper back. Didn't want to scare her or rush her.

I was so invested in the kiss that at first I didn't notice when Gio opened the door to call us outside. "Seven minutes flies, doesn't it?" I said to Jasmine to break the silence.

"Let's go dance," she said, taking my hand and leading me back into the room. The rest of the night was an exciting blur. We danced more, kissed some more, got a little bit drunker, and I smoked a joint when it was passed to me (Jasmine politely declined). When I looked over to the couch, I saw Vic sitting with Elena. The first time, they were talking, and she was playing with his hair. The second time, she had him pushed into the corner of the couch, leaning against the arm rest, and was kissing him. I nudged Jasmine to look in their direction, and she cooed. A half hour later, they were still in the same spot, still kissing.

At around 2 in the morning, we decided to head back to the villa, at Jasmine's urging. She didn't want to be too tired during our work with Professor Perlman tomorrow morning, and she needed to get up early to slip the notes under the doors. On our way out, Rocco invited Jasmine and me to go to a dance club, Le Danzig, with some of the older kids tomorrow night. I grabbed Vic, said goodbye to everyone, and we headed out.

As we walked home, Vic said, "That was the best party I've ever been to! Are all high school parties like that?"

I chuckled. "Not all of them, this was a particularly good one," I said, smirking at Jasmine. I really, really hoped the kissing was not going to be a one time thing.

"I can't believe how many girls kissed me during spin the bottle! And that Elena actually wanted to spend the whole night making out with me! This night was so awesome!" he said, excitedly babbling.

"You should keep her around, I don't know how many other girls will be willing to make out with you," I said jokingly. "Take advantage before she learns what a dork you are." He lightly punched me in the gut.

"Ari! " Jasmine said. "Vic, any girl would be lucky to kiss you, don't listen to him."

"I was just joking!" I said. Once we neared the villa, I added, "Jasmine, are we all set with the notes for tomorrow morning?"

She saluted me and said, "Ay, ay, cap’n."

"Perfect. Let's see what happens tomorrow, then."

Jasmine went to her room, and Vic and I headed up the attic. "I'm just going to stop by Dad's room, and let him know we aren't going to run tomorrow. I can't get up in 5 hours."

"Don't wake him!" I said, but it was too late, he was already running up the other staircase toward Dad's room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... some trickery abound as they forge midnight notes in Oliver and Elio's handwriting. I wonder what will happen? :D
> 
> L'shana tovah to anyone celebrating Rosh Hashanah tomorrow!
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read and interact/comment. I appreciate everything.


	31. Waiting for Midnight

_**POV: Oliver, July 3-4, 2007** _

I thought that after I told Elio that I needed to slow things down, that he was actively avoiding me, and was going to turn me down after all. He spent the whole rest of the day and night away from the villa (Annella said he was with Marzia), and then slept in his own bed. But then the next morning, he sat next to me at breakfast, smiled warmly, and played footsie with me again. There was something incredibly comforting about the rough pads of his feet rubbing against the tops of mine.

After breakfast, when we were in our hallway, Elio told me that he was going into town after his lesson with Vic, but he'd see me later. He got on his tiptoes and gave me a brief kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer to me, and deepened the kiss. He pulled away after a minute, smiled at me, and headed into his room to change and grab his notes.

Shockingly, I had an incredibly productive day working on my book. I finished a chapter, and outlined the next one, with the citations I wanted to double check.

Elio came back to the villa after lunch, and we sat quietly in the office. Mafalda was roaming the halls, vacuuming. I noticed he was wearing my Zayde's watch. He had gotten the watch resized and had a few links taken out. This told me everything I needed to know about where I stood. I was deliriously happy.

"Hey Elio," I said, putting my book down. "I was thinking... as much as I want to sleep in the same bed tonight, I have a feeling we should sleep separately. This is Vic’s first teenage party, and if it goes well, he is going to come into my room to tell me about it, and if Ari embarrasses him somehow, he’s going to come in and want to cry about it. He probably shouldn’t see you in there yet."

Elio pouted like a sad child. His frown was so adorable. "I wish we had slept in our bed together last night, but I didn't want to wake you when I got home. I guess you're right about tonight, but it doesn't mean I'm not disappointed."

* * *

The kids were buzzing during dinner - they were excited about their party this evening. I told Ari to watch his brother and to not drink too much.

Tonight's dinner guests were Sammy's colleague, a professor from the university in Milan, and his wife. We talked, drank wine (a lot of wine, we were all a little drunk by the end of the night), and had a very good time sharing stories about our respective universities and students. Elio played the piano for us, and around 1am, the couple finally left, so we went upstairs to bed. I checked the attic, and the boys still weren't home.

I poked my head in Elio's room. He was on his laptop, sitting in his ratty Yale shirt and a pair of boxers. He called me in, and I sat on the edge of his bed. "I'll tell the boys as soon as I can, I promise," I said. He closed his laptop, placing it on his nightstand, and raised his arms so I'd come closer. I leaned in, kissed him briefly, and he tugged me on top of him. I fell onto the bed, propped myself up a bit, and kissed him deeply. He ran his hands down my back, squeezing me tightly. I eventually pulled myself up, and sat back on the edge of the bed. Elio whimpered, clearly wanting more. "Slow down," I said. "I need to take this slowly."

"Stay with me tonight," he pleaded.

"I told you there’s a one hundred percent chance of Vic looking for me when he gets home. Goodnight, Elio," I said, standing up, giving him a kiss on the forehead, tucking him in, and heading back into my room.

No sooner had I fallen asleep when I heard an expected knock on the door. "Dad, are you up?" Vic said.

"I am now," I said, rubbing my eyes. "What time is it?"

"A little after 2. I just wanted to let you know not to wake me or Ari tomorrow for our run, we’re going to be way too tired." Now I was going to be tired, because my son decided to wake me mid sleep. The perils of parenthood.

"How was the party? Did you have a good time?"

Vic jumped into bed with me. "Dad, the party was amazing. We played spin the bottle, and SO MANY GIRLS KISSED ME! Then, Elena and I talked for a long time and MADE OUT FOR AN HOUR. This might have been the best night of my life!"

I yawned. "I'm very happy for you, Pup, and I’m really glad you had your first kiss, but can you let me get back to sleep? You can tell me all about it in the morning."

“Okay, Dad, I love you! See you in the morning!” he said, running out of the room and accidentally slamming the door when he left.

I thought about how sad it was that my baby was growing up as I drifted back to sleep.

* * *

I woke up groggily to my alarm, put on my running clothes, and as I was about to go grab the boys, I remembered that Vic said he and Ari had a late night and were going to sleep in. I took advantage of the solitude and went for a longer run to clear my head. I couldn’t believe the past few days were real. I was officially with Elio. He was mine, and I was his. I thought about the incomplete blow job (god, Mafalda found the most inconvenient time to get home), and how much I really wanted more. How was I going to tell the boys about Elio? I needed to do it soon. I ran faster and longer than I usually go with the boys. By the time I got back to the villa, my muscles were aching and I was disgustingly sweaty, but I felt good.

I went back into my room, and as I was taking off my sweaty gym clothes, I noticed a folded note on the floor. I opened it, and read it several times.

_**I need to talk to you. Your room, midnight.** _

Elio wrote me a note like he did when we first got together. I knew what this note meant, it meant the same thing the last one did. I didn’t think he was trying to pressure me into sex or physical intimacy. He was laying his cards out on the table. Was I ready to sleep with him? I wanted to, badly, but once we started, there was no stopping, and I needed to be 100% certain that I was emotionally ready for everything that came with sex.

Maybe he WAS making the decision for me. It only seemed fair, since after our first time together, I asked if he wanted me to stop, and when he didn’t reply, I made the decision to keep going. Elio decided that I was ready to be intimate. Maybe I was. Maybe I just needed to let go, and experience what my heart and body truly wanted, rather than holding myself back like I’d been doing.

I needed to leave the villa for the day. Maybe I’d ask to borrow the Fiat and take the boys on a day trip, get us all out of the house for a while. I found Sammy, asked if it was okay to borrow his car for the day, and he graciously agreed.

I went up to the attic to check on the boys, and they were still asleep. “Get up, wake up, go shower and get ready. I’m going to take you boys on a trip today.”

Ari threw a pillow at me and groaned. “Ugh, want more sleep. Up too late. Go away.”

Vic sat up sleepily. “Where are we going?”

“I thought I’d take you two further out in the country, to a lake the Perlmans once told me about. We can go swimming and get some really good food. What do you say we take the day off and spend the day as a family?”

“Fine. Can we eat breakfast and have some coffee before we go? I need coffee. My head hurts,” Ari said. "I need to be back around dinner, we're hanging out with Rocco tonight."

“I’ll meet you at the breakfast table in thirty,” I said, heading back to my room. I sat at my desk, playing around on my laptop, deciding what to do tonight. I figured I’d wait and see what happens tonight before telling the boys about Elio and me. I went to Elio’s Facebook profile, and scrolled through the pictures he was tagged in, thinking about how attracted to him I was, and how much I wanted to be with him, in every possible way. Vic had posted some pictures from the villa yesterday, and there was a particularly sweet one of Vic and Elio at the piano, that I think was taken by Jasmine with Vic’s camera. There was another adorable picture of Noemie on Elio’s lap, her face covered in ice cream. I also noticed that he had removed the "Relationship Status" from his profile entirely, so it no longer said single. It just wasn't there at all. He was waiting for me to go public.

Twenty minutes later, I went down to breakfast, to grab a quick bite and wait for the boys. Elio wasn’t there. Mafalda handed me a piece of toast and a knife for the jam that was already on the table. Ari and Vic soon came down, both with wet hair from their showers, in bathing suits and tees. “Eat quickly so we can head out soon. We want to get to the lake before it gets too warm out today.”

The boys shoveled food down as quickly as possible (no different than on a normal day), and as we headed to the car, Mafalda brought Ari a travel mug filled with coffee. He gave her a thankful hug, and hopped into the front passenger seat.

“Why does Ari always get to be in the front when the three of us are in a car?” Vic asked.

“Grow taller than six feet, and we’ll talk,” Ari said, sticking his tongue out.

As we drove to the lake, I asked the kids about their night. "Vic, tell me more about the party and Elena!"

"Oh my God, Dad, the party was so much fun. We played spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven and Elena chose me!"

"Chose you? I thought names were drawn from a hat?" I said.

"Gio said that just reinforced gender stereotypes, and people could kiss who they wanted, boy or girl. It wasn’t fair to girls who wanted to kiss girls and boys who wanted to kiss boys," Ari said, raising his eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, he said that about spin the bottle, too. If the bottle landed on a guy, you kissed the guy, and if it landed on a girl, you just the girl. You could spin again if it hit your sibling, though, because that’s just gross. Elena landed on Rocco once, and Ari landed on me his first try. It was funny."

"So you were playing these games, too, Ari? Whom did you kiss?" I said, smirking. If these kissing games had been this progressive when I was in high school, my life might have turned out very different.

"He kissed Rocco and Pia and a few girls whose names I don't know, and spent the rest of the night making out with Jasmine," Vic said.

"Is that so?" I chuckled. "Was it all part of a kissing game, or did you choose to make out?"

"Started with the former, ended with the latter," Ari said, blushing crimson. "I know you said to keep my distance because she's older and in college, but I really like her, Dad, and I think she likes me too."

"I know I was hard on you her first day, but she's a lovely girl. And I've seen her staring at you and the way you interact, I think she likes you, too. Just... If something else happens with her, don't pressure her into anything, and you should never feel pressured to do something you don't want to do."

Ari huffed and said, "I know, Dad. I think I'm just going to see where things go. She's never even had a boyfriend before, so I imagine she'd want to keep things slow and casual. We have to spend the summer working together, after all."

"Can we get back to me, and the fact that **I MADE OUT WITH A GIRL LAST NIGHT**?" Vic said, grinning cheekily.

"My baby brother is all grown up now," Vic said, reaching to the back seat and pinching his brother's cheek.

"Stop it!" Vic yelled, swatting Ari away.

I pulled the car over. "Both of you, stop it, I'm trying to drive." I swiftly got back on the road. "Tell me about Elena, Vic. She's Rocco's sister and Chiara's niece?"

I looked at Vic in the rear view mirror and he nodded. "She's my age, just turned 14, she's really pretty, is short, has blonde curly hair. She said she's a dancer and plays violin in her school orchestra, and she also loves _Harry Potter_!"

"It's a match made in dork heaven," Ari joked.

"ARI!" I shouted.

We arrived at the lake and parked the car. We grabbed towels and headed to the water. After taking off our shirts and shoes, and leaving them on the towel, we ran into the water. We waded around for a while, and the boys splashed each other and me.

Vic swam over to me while Ari had swum pretty far out, and whispered, "Hey Dad, can I ask you a really... personal question?"

Was he asking me about Elio? Did he see us at the opera? "Sure, what's up?"

"So, when you're kissing someone... How do you... What do you do about... Umm... The reaction you can't really control? Down here?" He motioned near his crotch underwater. "What if she notices?"

I couldn't help but start to laugh hysterically. My sweet, sweet boy. He was so naive and innocent and inexperienced. "Oh, Pup... That's... supposed to happen. When you're older, and note that I'm saying older, because you are too young for sexual activity beyond kissing, the kissing might lead to something more, and... well, it's kind of necessary for many other activities."

"I know how sex works, Dad. But if I want to keep kissing her, how... do I make it go away? If the kissing is what's causing it?"

"You can try to think about very boring, unsexy things, like sports or the weather or concentrate on reciting a poem in your head. Or think about your Great Aunt Doris and her hairy mole, that might do the trick. You'll figure this stuff out on your own, with practice. You're young and going through puberty right now, so it might be more difficult, but as you get older, you have more control over when it happens and stopping it. If she does notice... You can stop kissing if it bothers her, or she'll just realize that it’s a natural reaction and you're enjoying what you're doing. Just because you.. have an erection, doesn't mean you have to do anything further or are pressuring her into something. Don't worry, kiddo, it's not a big deal, nothing to be embarrassed about."

Ari swam back over to us, and we left the lake, ready to go relax on our towels.

"Ari, have you made a decision about your college applications?" I asked, as we sat, reapplying sunscreen.

"I want to apply early decision to Columbia. It was my favorite school I saw, they have good programs for classics and history and economics or anything else I might be interested in, and I really want to live in New York City. Plus, you and Mom went there."

"You used to say Harvard when you were a kid. You're sure you want to do early decision? It's binding if you get in."

Ari nodded. "I'm sure. If I get into Columbia, I'm going to Columbia. As long as we can afford it."

We had enough money to pay his tuition. Deb and I had set up college funds for both of the boys as soon as they were born, and I split Deb's life insurance payout between the boys' accounts and investments.

"You still need to work on applications for other schools, especially safety schools, just in case. We'll pull the apps if you're accepted." I said. I wanted him to play it safe, but I also wanted him to succeed. "Have you written your personal statement yet?"

He shook his head. "I keep trying, but everything I write is shit. Writing about my dead mother won't win me sympathy points, and I've led a spoiled, boring existence."

"I'm sorry your mother and I worked hard to provide good life experiences for the two of you."

"That's not what I mean, Dad. I appreciate what you've done for me. I guess I should write about working with Pro and being here for the summer?"

I nodded. "That's a start. Let's look over what you've got tomorrow.

The boys, presumably both exhausted from their exciting night, took naps on their towels, so I tried reading a book. I couldn't focus, because I was worried about tonight. Twenty years ago, once I'd replied to Elio's note, I was nervous, but knew what was going to happen, or at least, what I wanted to happen. Now, I knew what I wanted, and I didn't know why I was afraid.

The more I thought about it, the less worried I was. Elio wanted to be with me, I wanted to be with him, and we’d slept together before. This wasn’t going to change anything. In fact, it would just solidify our bond. After the first time, when we were still learning how our bodies worked as a unit, sex with Elio was like nothing I’d ever experienced before, or since. It was a pas de deux, we anticipated the other’s moves and knew how to move in response. Why had I been so reluctant to take things further? This was all I’d wanted for the past twenty years, all I’d dreamt of, thought about. Finally, at midnight tonight, we would be one again.

I kept looking at my wrist to check the time on my watch, and then smiling when I remembered that I had given the watch the Elio. I was going to have to get a new watch.

I woke the boys up, we hopped back into the car, and we found a trattoria off the side of the road where we stopped for lunch. We had some of the best risotto I’d ever eaten in my life. We joked how we should have risotto instead of burgers and hot dogs on every Fourth of July. Then, we drove back to the villa, where I decided to take a nap before dinner. Waiting for midnight, this was going to be the longest night of my life. I couldn't wait to finally be with Elio tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting very, very close to midnight! I'm sorry for how slow of a burn this has been, but I really, really hope you like where it goes (and it's very soon!)
> 
> Your comments continue to make me happy :)
> 
> And, on a personal note, I went to my aunt and uncle's for Rosh Hashanah, and THEY DIDN'T EVEN SERVE NOODLE KUGEL. It's my favorite Jewish food (thus, the user name), and I was very disappointed. Here's hoping that tomorrow's family dinner has some kugel.


	32. He's the One

_**POV: Elio, July 4, 2007** _

Last night was a bit of a blur. I drank too much wine at dinner, and I only vaguely remember pulling Oliver on top of me. I need to stop doing that, trying to move things faster than he is able and willing to go. I moved too quickly after I played him my piano composition, I did that last night. I told him I would wait for him, and I will. It's just so difficult, when he's close to me, to not settle into his arms and lose myself.

I wasn't feeling hungover, but I was a little groggy when I heard Oliver's door close. I assumed he was leaving for his run, but I looked at my watch on the night stand, and it was already almost 9am.

(My watch! Oliver's watch! His Zayde's watch! One of the only physical remnants from his beloved Bubbe. A Morgenstern family heirloom, engraved for me, to show me that he's committed, that I have his heart! My heart. Our heart. Heart of hearts. Cor Cordium. Everything about us was one and the same and was intertwined.)

I went to go shower before my piano lesson with Vic, when I saw a folded piece of paper on the floor. I opened it, and in his unmistakably pristine handwriting (I still have the first note, from our first summer. I still look at it all the time. I have it pressed between the pages of his book on Heraclitus on my bookshelf in Princeton), it said:

_**I need to talk to you. My room, midnight.** _

There was only one possible thing this could mean. He was ready. To be with me, to sleep with me, to make love to me, to fuck me. I didn't care which crude phrasing of the act he used, as long as it involved Oliver and me. Oliver and Elio. Elio and Oliver. Together, again, as one.

I wasn't going to pressure him into anything tonight. I would let him take the lead, do whatever feels right for him. He knew I was game for anything, whatever he wanted.

As I sat on my bed, reading and rereading the note, there was a knock on my door. Shit, it was Oliver, telling me that he sent the note in another moment of weakness, like his drunken emails, and wanted to apologize and take it back. Maybe he'd realized what a mistake he'd made by giving me his watch and wanted it back, too. "Come in," I said, hesitantly, folding the note and putting it in my nightstand.

"Hi, Elio," Vic said, poking his head in the door frame, hair dripping from his recent shower. "My dad is taking Ari and me on a trip to the lake, so I'm going to miss my lesson today. Can we spend extra time working on the Mozart tomorrow?"

So it goes. Oliver was removing himself from the situation again, like he did last time. He didn't want to see me until midnight. That was okay. I could wait until midnight. Maybe. The minutes were going to feel like hours and the hours like days until I could be in his arms again. His wonderful, long, strong, comforting arms.

"Have fun with your dad, we'll work on the Mozart tomorrow. Do you know when you'll be back?"

"Around dinner? Ari and Jasmine have plans to go to that outdoor disco with some of the older teens."

"I loved Le Danzig when I was a teenager, they'll have a good time. Speaking of, how was the party?"

Vic's eyes lit up and he had the biggest grin I'd ever seen from him. He came and sat on my desk chair. "It was so much fun! I've never been to a real party before, not like that. I even had my first kiss!"

I smiled at Vic. The kid was growing up before my eyes. "That's great! I'm glad you had fun!"

"It was so cool, Elio. We played spin the bottle and almost every girl there, even older ones, kissed me. And then Elena chose me for seven minutes in heaven and we spent the whole time talking about music and _Harry Potter_ , and then later, she pushed me onto the couch and made out with me for an hour, which was even better than any of the spin the bottle kisses! Making out is awesome," he said, dreamily.

It sure is, kid. Just wait until you're older and you get to do even more exciting things... "Elena is a nice kid, I like her whole family."

"She's so pretty. And such a good kisser. Anyway, I have to go have breakfast, but I just wanted to let you know about missing our lesson. See you later!" he said, running out of the room.

I wondered if Oliver was going to tell the boys while they were on their trip. He clearly hadn't yet, because Vic probably would have said something to me. Though, Vic and I hadn't really spoken about it since I took him to the berm.

When I got dressed, it felt like the right day to wear Billowy. I still occasionally wore it, and tried to keep it in good condition. I just wanted to be fully enveloped by Oliver today. After I ate breakfast (Mafalda saved me an egg and toast, and gave me Nutella), I gave Marzia a call.

"Ciao, Marzia. What are you up to today?"

"Chiara and I were going to get pedicures in an hour while my parents watch Noemie for the day. Thierry is in Paris for a few days. Want to join us?"

"I'll pass on the pedicures, but can I meet you in town for lunch after?"

We planned to meet at the pizza shop at 1. I had a few hours to kill, so I went into the office and worked on my syllabus and the first few lectures for my intro to music theory class. I kept checking my watch for the time. This watch had already become my most cherished possession. It symbolized everything I've cried about, dreamt about, desired for twenty years, and I finally had tangible proof that what we had was real, and not unrequited, and that after all of these years, Oliver still desired me.

* * *

I lazily road my bike into town, getting to the pizza shop ahead of Marzia and Chiara. I hadn't seen Chiara since last summer. They both kissed me when they got to the table, and sat across from me.

"So, Marzia says you have a big secret she can't tell me that you're going to share with me?" Chiara said.

"I didn't know if it was public knowledge yet!" Marzia said.

"What, did he get someone pregnant?"

I smiled widely, and took off my watch, handing it to her so she could read the inscription.

Chiara squinted and looked at the back of the watch. "Elio, I speak a lot of languages, but Russian is not one of them."

Marzia grabbed the watch from Chiara, since she hadn't seen it yet, and read the back. "The second part, silly."

"Careful with that!" I shouted.

Chiara looked at the watch again, placed it on the table, and screamed. "ELIO!! OH MY GOD!"

I put the watch back on carefully. "He gave me this, his grandfather's watch, and told me that he wants to be with me, for real. We just have to keep it quiet until he tells his sons. He has wanted take everything slowly, though, which has been difficult because I want to be with him SO BADLY. I’ve been waiting to sleep with him again for twenty years.”

“I still can’t believe you both let me believe I had a chance with him that whole summer, when you two were secretly together,” Chiara said. We hailed the water and ordered wine and pizza.

“Hey, at least you didn’t lose your virginity to him, and then have him completely abandon you a few days later like this jerk did to me,” Marzia said, jokingly slapping me on the wrist.

I bowed my head, still ashamed that I had done that to Marzia. I was so glad that she was still my friend, and that we were even closer now. “That was my first time too, and I was still figuring things out! And the first time you and I slept together, Oliver had already told me that we weren’t going to happen, so I wasn’t leading you on. I was attracted to you, too! I really liked you! I was a stupid, hormonal seventeen year old. Also, have I mentioned how sorry I still am?.”

Marzia laughed. “I know, I know. You can stop apologizing, it was twenty years ago. Tell Chiara about how you used me to kill time before your first rendezvous with Oliver.”

Chiara opened her mouth wide. “What? What is she talking about?”

“Oliver and I planned to meet at midnight for what I correctly assumed was going to be sex. But I had a whole day to kill, and Marzia was coming over, and I had so much pent up sexual energy thinking about what midnight held, and we had already slept together the day before…”

“So he used me for sex and to pass time, and thought about Oliver the whole time.” Marzia said. The waiter brought us wine glasses and a bottle of wine. Chiara opened the bottle and poured us each a glass.

“Elio! How come I never knew about this?” Chiara said.

I shrugged. At this rate, all of my friends knew about my history with Oliver, and that I dated men and women, but I had only shared some specific details of Oliver with Marzia. Some details were private. “Speaking of his midnight note, though, he may have left me another one today…”

Marzia put down her wine glass. “What are you talking about?”

“He left me a note today, and it said that he needs to speak to me, and he’ll see me in his room at midnight. I think it means that he’s FINALLY ready for sex.”

Marzia and Chiara both screamed, and an old couple at the next table glared at us. We apologized, and lowered our voices.

Marzia took my hand and squeezed it. “I am so happy for you, Elio! Things are finally happening!”

Chiara fluffed out her curls with her newly polished fingernails and asked, "So, is he still as good looking as he was back then?"

I grinned. "He's grown even more handsome with age. My God, Chiara, he is so sexy, and smart, and wonderful. Come by the villa for dinner one day, you'll see for yourself. Bring your niece and nephew, apparently your nephew and Oliver's older son have become friends, and your niece made out with his younger son last night..."

The waiter brought us our pizza, and we began eating, as Chiara told us about her life in Rome with Fabrizio. They’d been together for almost six years, and he still hadn’t proposed, but she thought it was going to happen this summer. They’d already talked about trying to have a baby in the next year, and she wanted to be married before they had the baby.

Did I want to have a child? If I was with Oliver, it wasn’t going to happen. Aside from the obvious biological reasons, he’s already forty-four, and has two teenagers. I love his boys, and would love them as if they were my own. I decided being with Oliver was more important to me than having a child. We could always adopt, but I didn’t think he would want to have more children. We’d need to speak about this at some point, in the far future, but I was definitely getting ahead of myself. Right now, I’ll just focus on being with him, being together, finally sleeping together, and enjoying our summer.

After lunch, we sat in the town square, letting the effects of the wine dissipate before we got on our bikes or in our cars. I thought about how I’d brought Oliver to nearly this same table on his first day with us twenty years ago, and how I would not have believed you that day if you told me that twenty years later, we were going to be together.

Chiara bid us adieu when she was sober enough to get on her bicycle - she was having dinner with Fabrizio, her parents, and her brother’s family, and wanted to go home and take a nap before dinner.

“Are you prepared for tonight?” Marzia asked, as we walked around town a bit.

“What do you mean, prepared? I’ve been prepared for this for my entire adult life.”

She giggled. “No, I mean… do you have condoms?”

I hadn’t even thought about that, which is strange because I've been safe with every other person I've ever been with. During our first summer, we had been pretty careless, and never used protection. We were lucky that we were both clean and that nothing bad had happened. But since then, we’d both been with many people. I was regularly tested, but Marzia was right, I needed to be safe.

“I don’t have any here. Can you drive me to the pharmacy a few towns over so I can buy condoms and lube? Oliver might have bought some, but it’s better to have too much than not enough. I’d rather do it somewhere a little further from here, rather than have to buy from someone who’s known me my entire life.”

Marzia nodded. “Of course, love. Let’s get on the road!”

* * *

After our pharmacy trip, Marzia drove me home. My parents had invited an older American couple, both professors at Berkeley, to dinner. My father had only ever corresponded with the husband over letter and email, but the couple was passing through Italy, and my father encouraged them to visit. Oliver and I sat next to each other, and every so often, we would catch the other’s glance and smile. I had to wait until midnight. In Oliver’s words, I had to be good. He definitely noticed that I was wearing his shirt.

Jasmine told the couple about the research she was working on with my Dad, Ari talked about his future college plans, and Vic excitedly talked about our lessons. The couple suggested that Vic and I play something together. We had already been transcribing Bach’s _Air on a G String_ for clarinet and piano, so we decided to play that together. Vic ran upstairs to grab his clarinet, I sat at the piano and warmed up.

We played the duet together, and every so often, I looked over at Oliver, who looked like he was going to burst into tears at any moment. After we played, Ari said that he and Jasmine had to head out, because they were meeting some friends to go dancing. They went to their respective rooms to change, and emerged a few minutes later, Jasmine in a sparkly tank top and shorts, and Ari in a loose-fit button down shirt, with the top button open, exposing his Star of David necklace. He was his father’s son.

While Oliver was speaking to the couple and my mother, my father pulled me aside when we were pouring ourselves a final drink for the night (I didn’t want to be drunk, I wanted everything to… work). “That duet with Vic was beautiful, you’ve been such a great teacher and mentor for him, and it’s only been a few weeks,” my father said.

“I love working with him, he’s such a wonderful kid. He is such a voracious learner, and he takes to everything so quickly.”

My father nodded. “I think Oliver appreciates all of the time you’ve spent with his son, too. He seemed verklempt, watching the two of you play together.”

My cheeks turned pink. “Vic reminds me so much of the shyer, softer sides of Oliver. He raised a really good kid... two really good kids.”

“You and Oliver seem to have made up after whatever tiff you were having last week,” he said. I nodded, not saying anything. “I know it’s not my place to pry, but I couldn’t help notice that you are wearing his watch.”

I nodded, and took the watch off, to show it to him. My dad clearly knew what was happening. “We’re being discreet about everything, until he tells the boys.” I showed him the inscription. “Papa, I think this is it for me. He said he wants to be with me, for real this time, no more games, and I think I’ve always known that he’s the one. I just never thought he’d come back to me. I’ve always compared everyone else I’ve dated to him, and no one has ever come close to him. You told me once that what was had was rare and special.”

My father read the watch, and asked, “Who were Oleg and Anna? His grandparents?”

“They were his Zayde and Bubbe. His Bubbe left this for him in her will, and now he gave it to me.” I put the watch back on. My father wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a warm hug. I was so much taller than he was, but it was still comforting to be hugged by your father.

“Oh, Elly Belly! I’m so happy for you! You know how much we love Oliver and his family." He wiped a stray tear from his eye, and continued. "Thank you for telling me. Your mother will be thrilled when you tell her, if she hasn’t already figured it out.”

“It’s maman, she definitely knew before I did.”

We went back into the living room and joined the others. I excused myself around 11, to give myself time in my room alone, mentally preparing myself for what was to come tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was Elio's pre-midnight perspective! We're getting there, slowly but surely :)
> 
> Thank you for all of your kind words, as usual. You are the best.


	33. Thank You, Alcohol!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one starts off PG/PG-13 and fluffy, and ends NSFW, as a word of warning.

_**POV: Ari, July 4, 2007** _

I was kind of shocked that Dad surprised us with a family trip today, but I didn’t mind taking the day off of working, especially given how tired I was this morning. Last night was amazing, I loved making out with Jasmine, and I hoped she would want to kiss me again.

When Vic and I were dead to the world, and not out for a run like we had originally planned, Jasmine slipped the notes under their respective doors. Now, all we had to do was wait.

Before dinner, I gathered Vic and Jasmine in the attic so we could have a plan of action in case the notes didn’t work. “Do we know that they got the notes?” I asked.

“They definitely did. I poked my head into their rooms while they were both gone today, and the notes were no longer on the floor.” Jasmine said.

“I wonder if that’s why Dad made us go to the lake today? To think about everything and get away for the day,” Vic said.

“Sounds like Dad, avoiding conflict and making a decision,” I said.

“I think it’ll work,” Jasmine said, with a grin.

“How will we know if it worked? How will we know if they’re dating or together or whatever we’re going to call it?” I asked.

Jasmine scratched her head. “We’ll look for body language cues tomorrow. I think we’ll know.”

I stuck my tongue out, pretending to gag. Still didn't want to think about my Dad having sex. Why were we doing this again (other than helping him reconnect with the only person we thought would make him happy)?

* * *

After dinner, Vic showed off for the visiting Berkeley professors (whom I tried to suck up to a bit. In case I didn’t get into Columbia and needed to pull some strings at another good school, it would be good to have a connection there), playing clarinet while Elio played piano. As annoying as it was when he did this, they were really, really good. I was impressed.

Jasmine and I said goodbye to everyone, and ran to our rooms to get dressed, since we were due to meet Rocco soon. I put on a pale pink button down shirt and khaki pants, with the black Chuck Taylors dad had bought me at the end of the school year. When I fixed my hair in the mirror, trying to stop it from being so floppy, I undid the top button of my shirt. Felt like the right way to wear the shirt tonight, at a dance club in Italy. My Star of David necklace fell right above the second button.

We headed to Rocco’s house. He was going to drive us to the club. Jasmine and I walked in awkward silence, not sure what to say after yesterday. Finally, I decided to speak. “I hope the dance club is as fun as the party was last night. I had a good time with you yesterday.”

She grinned shyly, and said, “I had a really nice time yesterday, too.” She grabbed my hand, and we walked with our fingers interlaced. I wasn’t usually this nervous around girls, why was she making me so nervous?

Before we got to Rocco’s, she stopped walking, got on her tiptoes, and gave me a kiss. “I thought that would help break the tension,” she said, giggling. She wasn’t wrong. I asked her how the day went, and if they missed me while they worked today. “Well, I think Professor Perlman definitely missed your sarcastic commentary track,” she said.

“Hey, it wouldn’t be a work day if I wasn’t complaining about something! I bet you missed me bothering you all day.”

“Shockingly, I did. It’s been fun working with you,” Jasmine said.

We got to Rocco’s house, and we piled into his grandfather’s car. The disco wasn’t too far away, but he figured it was easier to drive us and let one person not drink than for all of us to bike there and have to sober up before leaving.

Some of the other kids from last night were already at the club, sitting at a table. They waved when they saw us arrive, and pulled over some seats for us. Rocco grabbed me and told me to come with him to get drinks for everyone. “So, are you going to hit that tonight?” he said.

“Don’t talk about her that way!” I said, blushing. “I really like her, and we only just made out yesterday. I don’t think sex is in the conversation.”

Rocco laughed. “I was only half joking. For what it’s worth, I think she really likes you, too. How much older than you is she? Do you usually go for older girls?”

“She’s a little more than a year older than I am, but she’s about to start her second year of college, and I’m starting my senior year of high school. I mostly just go for… girls. Preferably moderately intelligent, with big boobs. What about you? Are you and Pia dating?”

He shook his head. “Nah, we fool around sometimes, but we’re not dating. I’ve known her my whole life. We’ve been having some fun this summer, though, if you know what I mean,” he said, jabbing me.

We ordered two pitchers of beer for the table, and got enough glasses for everyone. I set the glasses down, Rocco poured a beer for everyone (including himself - he promised this would be his only drink of the night, as designated driver), and we toasted to a wonderful evening.

Eventually, after we’d all had a drink or two, when _Toxic_ by Britney Spears was playing, Giovanni dragged us all to the dance floor. I was two beers in and feeling good about everything. Jasmine and I started to dance, at first side by side, but as the night wore on, and as we’d had more alcohol, not an inch separated our bodies. She was solidly a foot shorter than I was, but the difference in height didn’t matter at all while we were dancing. I started grinding my crotch against hers, and she seemed to reciprocate. Someone brought us over a tray of shots, and we gladly took them.

I’m not sure when we stopped dancing and started kissing, but once we started kissing, we didn’t stop. After a few songs, Jasmine led me to the back wall of the dance club, looking for a more private place. I pressed her against the wall, and we kissed for a long time. She wrapped her leg around mine, as I pressed my body into hers, both of us aching with desire and sexual tension. I’d never wanted to, or needed to, kiss someone this badly before.

I have no idea how long we were kissing, but I pulled away when I realized I desperately needed water. “I… do you… I need some water, do you want to go get some with me?”

She nodded, and I think she was also a bit disoriented. We got water from the bar, and when I sat down on a seat at an empty table, instead of sitting in the seat next to mine, she sat on my lap, draping her legs over the side of the chair. “I’m not usually this brazen, you can thank the alcohol for this,” she said smirking, and took a big gulp of water.

“THANK YOU, ALCOHOL!” I shouted loudly, pointing my arms at the bar in mock worship, and Jasmine giggled. We drank a bit more water, and then she kissed me again. Kissing her while sitting down was much easier than when we were standing up. I didn’t have to bend down as much, I didn’t have to worry about falling over when the world was spinning, and it was just really nice to have her sit in my lap. We made out until Rocco came and sat down next to us. “Got any room for me on that chair?” he said, grabbing my water and taking a sip.

I shooed Rocco away with my hand, and Jasmine started kissing my neck. “Come on, you two, everyone is dancing, and we want you to join us!” I groaned at him, and Jasmine nodded. We’d probably been kissing for 2 hours at this point, our tongues and lips could use a break. We joined the others on the dance floor, and jumped up and down as they played _Every Time We Touch_.

* * *

 

By 1 or 1:30, Rocco corralled us back to his car so he could drive us back to the villa. Jasmine and I made out in the backseat for the entire short drive. He dropped us off at the front of the property, and we walked hand in hand toward the house, singing _Umbrella_ by Rihanna at the top of our lungs. We were so entranced by one another, enjoying our evening, that we didn’t realize we were probably waking everyone up.

“How do you think your Dad’s night went? Do you think he’s with Elio right now?” Jasmine said, while I was kissing her neck on the driveway.

“Don’t… want to… think… about… my dad… right now,” I said, between punctuated kisses.

When we finally got inside, I kissed her one last time. “I had SO much fun tonight,” I said.

“We can… continue our night, if you want. Do you want to… sleep in my room tonight?” Jasmine said shyly.

I grinned. I’d never slept in a bed with a girl before. Did she want to have sex tonight? I wasn’t ready for that. Kissing, I definitely wanted to do, but sex, I thought I needed to be more sober and prepared for. “Let me just go up to my room and change and get ready for bed, I’ll meet you down here in a few minutes?”

I ran up to the attic and quietly changed into my pajamas (a Red Sox t-shirt and plaid pants), so as to not wake Vic. I went back downstairs, quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth, and knocked on Jasmine’s door.

“Come in!” she whispered. I opened the door, and she was sitting on her bed, wearing a Barnard shirt and blue cotton shorts. I awkwardly walked into the room and closed the door. “C’mere,” she said, patting the bed next to her.

I sat down on the edge of the bed nervously. “I… I should probably tell you… I’ve never… I’ve never had sex before.”

Jasmine laughed. “It’s okay, neither have I. I didn’t think we were going to have sex right now, I’m DEFINITELY not ready for that yet. I just figured we could make out some more and cuddle while we slept.”

This was a big relief. “I’m not ready for sex, either,” I said honestly. “But making out some more, I am definitely ready for.”

I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. We were much more sober than we were when we had started kissing today, and I couldn’t believe that she still wanted to kiss me. This was amazing. Jasmine pushed me toward the pillow, and we lay next to each other, making out some more. Horizontal makeouts were definitely my favorite. Before I knew it, Jasmine had rolled on top of me. She ran her hands down my chest, which sent chills down my spine. This. was. amazing.

I was suddenly very hard, and very aware that she was dry humping me while we kissed. I tried to think about the least sexy thing I knew: Aunt Doris’s hairy mole. But my brain quickly went back to the fact that Jasmine was on top of me. I ran my hands down her arms, along her clothed stomach, and settled on her boobs. I noticed that she hadn’t taken her bra off - I had thought women took them off before bed, but what did I know. “Is this okay?” I asked. She nodded, and resumed kissing me.

Eventually, she moved my hand from her chest, and slid it into her shorts. “You can… if you want to… you don’t have to,” she said sheepishly.

“I want to,” I said, pulling her in closer for another kiss. I let her guide my hand where she wanted it, as she held her hand above mine, showing me where she wanted to be touched. She was wet with desire, and moaned softly whenever I hit her in a certain way. I made mental notes of the things that made her moan and twitch. I had never done this before, had never touched a girl there, but I had watched enough porn to have an idea of what to do. I kept kissing her while I fingered her, as she thrust her hips against my hand and my body. Fuck, I didn’t want this night to end.

Maybe ten minutes had passed (I had lost all track of time), and my hand was cramping up a bit, but I was determined to make this as pleasurable and good for her as possible. Soon, I felt her muscles contract around my finger, and her whole body convulsed while she moaned into my mouth. I felt pretty proud of myself - I’d never made a girl orgasm before, and I was pretty sure she wasn’t faking it. She rolled off of me, and lay next to me.

“Wow,” she said. “Just… wow. I’ve never… with someone else… before,” she said, kissing my cheek. I was sweaty and my cheeks were red, but I felt happy and accomplished.

I looked over at the clock, and I had to get up to run with my dad in a few hours. “We should probably go to bed, I’ll need to set an alarm so I’m up for my run before my dad goes to wake me up,” I said.

She ran her hand down my body, resting her fingers over my tented shorts. “I can… we can… take care of this, if you want,” she said, biting her lip. I nodded vigorously.

I untied my pajama bottoms, giving her easier access. Jasmine knelt in front of me, and pulled my bottoms and my boxers off in one go. I was even harder in an instant. “Wow, you are even bigger than I thought you’d be,” she said, smirking. I was afraid that I would come the instant she touched me. I pulled my t-shirt up, exposing my stomach.

She sized me up, and then began tugging on me. I winced when her grip was too tight, which she realized, and loosened her hand a bit. I was wet again in no time. As she gently yanked her hand up and down my length, she used her other hand to run her thumb along my underside and the tip. Oh fuck, this was amazing. I’d only done this once before, with Jessica, but she hadn’t even taken off my pants, and her dad came home within a minute, so it barely even counted. But with Jasmine, this was fucking incredible. I felt every ounce of blood leave my brain and travel to my dick. At this point in time, nothing else mattered, other than that Jasmine was touching me, pulling me, making me feel so good. Fuuuuuck.

“Am I doing this right?” she asked, making eye contact. If this was her first time doing this, I thought about how amazing it would feel after she had some experience. I was going to volunteer myself for the experience.

“Oh my god,” I muttered, “this… is so… amazing.” I could feel my eyes rolling back into my head. Suddenly, I could feel my muscles tightening. “I’m close,” I said. I tried to swat her hand away so I could finish myself, so she wouldn’t get messy, but she wouldn’t release me. I moaned her name and came quickly, some on her hands but mostly over my abdomen. Jasmine reached to her nightstand and grabbed two tissues, using one to clean her hands, and handed me the other to clean myself off.

“Fuck, Jasmine, that was… FUCK!” I exclaimed, at a loss for words. I took her tissue and went to go throw them both away in the bathroom. She smiled at me when I returned.

“Maybe we should go to bed now? What time do you need to get up?” she asked.

“Around 7, Dad usually grabs us by 7:15.”

Jasmine set the alarm, turned over to give me a quick kiss on the lips, and then rest her head on my chest. I wrapped my arm around her, running my fingers along her arm. This night was AMAZING. We soon fell asleep, our bodies intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being evil, but I promise that the next chapter takes place at midnight, from Oliver's POV!
> 
> Our boy Ari is growing up :) (but is also making the mature decision to not rush into sex). I tried to show Oliver's influence in the way Ari treats women, during intimate moments.
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated, and I adore all of you who have stuck with me thus far. I really hope the next few chapters will make you very happy.


	34. The Last First Time, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is VERY NSFW :)

_**POV: Oliver, July 5, 2007 (midnight)** _

I was pacing back and forth in my room. It was 11:45, 15 minutes to midnight. I heard Elio in his room, and I thought he was pacing too. I wished I still smoked, I wished I had some pot (maybe I should have looked in Ari’s drawer to see if he had any pot… I’ve never done that before, but this was a desperate time). Why was I nervous? I wanted to sleep with Elio, I had slept with Elio many, many times when we were together. This felt different. This felt like the last first time. That after this, I would never have another first time with someone again. We’d both been through so much in the past 20 years, been with other people, had so many life experiences, that this was going to feel new again.

I opened my drawers, trying to decide what to wear. Definitely not a button-down shirt, like last time. I settled on an old Boston Bruins t-shirt and my pajama pants. Casual, as it was midnight, easy to remove, but not too presumptuous. I sat on the edge of my bed, tapping my foot. I looked at the alarm clock. 11:57. More footsteps in Elio’s room. I heard the bathroom door close on his side. He ran the sink, and I heard him say something to himself, but I couldn’t make out what he said. I looked at the alarm clock again. 11:59. Maybe he wasn’t going to come. Maybe he’d changed his mind.

At the stroke of midnight, the bathroom door opened into my room, and Elio walked in. I smiled softly at him. “I’m glad you came,” I said, remembering what I had said twenty years earlier.

“Of course I was coming,” he said, returning my smile, and sitting down next to me. He was still wearing my loose-fitting blue shirt (even looser fit on him than on me. God, I loved when he wore my clothing), a pair of shorts, and my Zayde’s watch. He looked so good in my shirt - it was still several sizes too large, so he drowned in it, but there was something particularly sexy and possessive seeing him in my clothing. Thinking about it, that shirt had been his now for much longer than it had been mine. He rest his head on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around him, kissing his forehead.

“I’m so nervous,” I said, squeezing him close to me.

“Don’t be. We’ll take good care of each other, we always took good care of each other” he said. “But I think this time, we should talk first.”

I nodded. He was probably right, we needed to be in the right head space and not rush this.

“We… we weren’t safe last time, which was stupid and impetuous but we were lucky. Have you been tested recently?” Elio asked.

“Not since my last physical, and everything was fine, but I slept with someone since then. We used protection, but still. What about you?”

“Like clockwork, but the last time was two months ago.” Shit, I didn’t even think about this, and we didn’t have any condoms. “I bought condoms today… just in case…” Elio said, reading my mind.

I grinned at him, and eyed him from head to toe. He’d grown up so much since we’d last been together, but he still looked so incredibly young and handsome and sexy. “I… I’ve been dreaming about this for twenty years,” I said, thinking about how many years we’d lost.

“Me too,” he said, sitting up and facing me. “Anyone I’ve ever dated, anyone I’ve been with, as much as I tried to be happy with them, tried to enjoy myself, I always thought about how they weren’t you. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

“You have me now. There’s no time standing in our way, no ex-girlfriends or disapproving parents…,” I said, resting my hand on his chin.

He stared deeply into my eyes, those sparkly green irises peering through me. He still made me knees weak. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, pressing his forehead to mine.

I laughed, echoing his preferred response. "Yes, please."

Elio brushed my hair out of my face, and licked my lips mischievously before pressing his lips to mine. I returned the kiss, running my fingers through the curls at the back of his head. He started tugging at my shirt, so I raised my arms up, letting him easily pull the shirt off. We resumed the kiss, as he ran his fingers down my chest and side, which immediately gave me goosebumps.

I slowly started unbuttoning his shirt (my shirt), kissing the new area of skin I exposed as I released another button. Once the shirt was fully unbuttoned, I pulled it off of him and tossed it to the floor. Elio pushed me back toward the pillow, and pulled my pajama pants and boxers off in one go. He smirked at me when he saw how hard I was already. He lay on top of me, and I began to lose myself in the kiss. Why had I been holding back? This was everything I’d ever wanted. He ran his hands down my naked body, moaning into my mouth.

I wrapped my arms around his middle, and rolled him over so I was on top of him. I then sat up, unbuttoned his shorts, pulling them off with his boxers. I liked that there was an equality, a sameness to our nudity. Sometimes, when I was naked with someone, I felt raw and exposed, but with Elio, it felt comfortable and natural. I crawled back on top of him, his hardness pressing against mine, and kissed his neck, his chest, his belly, and thighs. Then I took him in my mouth for the briefest of moments, before resuming my trail of kisses down his legs. I wanted to kiss every inch of his body, relearn every curve, every hair, every muscle.

Elio giggled when I kissed the soles of his feet - he was always a bit ticklish there. He beckoned me back toward him, wrapped me tightly in his arms, and wrestled me to the bed so he was on top of me. When I leaned in to kiss him, he pulled away, immediately settling between my legs and taking nearly my entire cock into his mouth. “Fuck, Elio” I muttered. “Turn around and get over here,” I told him. I wanted to pleasure him at the same time.

He jokingly got on all fours, his splendid behind arched toward me. “I thought rimming was something we’d build to tonight, but if that’s where you want to go first, I’m not complaining,” he said, simpering.

“You know that’s not what I meant, you goose,” I said, laughing. “C’mere,” I added, grabbing his stomach, rolling him on top of me - I wanted Elio to be in control. Before long, we were sucking each other at the same time, dipping into each other, savoring the other. We subconsciously echoed each other’s movements. Within a few minutes, I was teetering on the edge. I squeezed his ass cheek, letting him know that I was close, and he groaned, indicating the same, showing no signs of letting me come anywhere but inside his mouth. I wanted to swallow his seed, milk every last salty drop out of him. We both came at nearly the same time.

Elio climbed off of me, turned around, and lay next to me. “Fuck, I missed that, I missed you so much,” he said. With my release, I felt more relaxed, more at ease. Any doubt about our relationship, any residual survivor’s guilt that I was feeling, had subsided. This was where I was meant to be, with whom I was meant to be.

* * *

We lay in contented silence for a while, giving our bodies time to recover, listening to the wind whistling through the trees. I propped myself on one arm, and stared down at him, admiring his naked form. “Is this real?” I said. “Are we really naked together in your childhood bedroom, in 2007? Am I dreaming?”

He tugged at my cock, which was already half hard again. “Would you feel that if you were dreaming?”

I rolled on top of him once more, kissing him deeply, then reached underneath me to grip his length, already plump and tumescent once more. I waited until he was fully hard, and then lowered myself, settling between his legs, licking and sucking on each of his testicles, which elicited the sweetest and lowest of noises from Elio. I licked my index finger, and ran my finger in slow circles around his hole. As I pressed my finger, ready to enter him, he said “Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Do you not want me to do this? Are you not ready?” I asked, pulling away. He sat up and kissed me.

“Of course I want you to, I want it so fucking badly. Stay right here,” he said, getting out of bed and going into his room. Elio made some noise in his room, and I could hear the crinkling of plastic. He returned with a plastic bag, sat on the bed, and emptied the contents next to me. He handed me the box of condoms to open, and he took out a bottle of lube. “I think we’ll both enjoy this a lot more, and experience a lot less pain both now and tomorrow, if we use this,” he said, tearing off the hard plastic at the top of the bottle. I placed the box of condoms on the nightstand, and took the bottle of lube, rubbing it between my hands to warm it up.

“Where were we?” I asked, pouring lube on my fingers.

“I think you were preparing to fuck me senseless,” he said, laying back down and spreading his legs.

I entered him with my lubed up finger, enjoying how tight and warm he felt around my finger. Elio’s breath stiffened, as his body slowly adjusted to my motions and pressure. I added a second finger, brushing my fingers against his insides, arching toward his prostate. We continued like this for a few minutes - his cock was already leaking, and he made soft low noises as I stretched him out. “I want you… I need you inside of me,” he whimpered. He did not have to tell me twice. I reached over to the box of condoms with my left hand, and threw the box at him.

“Can you open this for me? My fingers are a bit slippery and preoccupied,” I said. He very quickly tore off a condom from the roll, and deftly opened the wrapper, handing it to me. I slowly removed my fingers from inside him, pinched the tip of the condom, and rolled it on.

“Please, please fuck me,” he begged. I spread his legs more, positioned myself above him, and slowly entered him. We both immediately spewed incomprehensible noises. Twenty years. It had been twenty years since we had last done this. Still, we found an old rhythm immediately. I thrust in him slowly, steadying myself.

I took my sweet time, rolling my hips gently and deliberately. I felt like I had spent the past twenty years wandering the desert, parched and confused, and was finally given permission to enter the promised land.

We exchanged swear words, and nonsensical moans. Elio and I had slept together many, many times during our two weeks, but it had never felt _this_ intimate or intense before. I was overcome with emotion, and tears flooded my eyes. “Oliver,” I moaned, thrusting into him. “Oliver, Oliver, Oliver”.

Elio smiled at me, and shouted in return, “Elio, Elio, Elio!” He quickly came, spurting ribbons on our stomachs. This sent me over the edge, and I gripped my fingers into the mattress as I came inside of him. When I finished, I stood at the edge of the bed, and went to dispose of the condom before hopping into bed to cuddle.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wiping my tears with his forefinger.

“Never better - I’m blissfully happy right now. I used to be stoic, but since I became a parent, I don’t really have control over this,” I said, pointing at the tears still running down my face. Elio scooted closer, and licked the tears off of my face, which made me laugh. He put his head on the pillow, and I rest my head on him. The night (well, early morning) was still young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our two crazy kids have finally come together again! I decided to split the Oliver POV into two chapters, because it was pretty long as one chapter, and there was a LOT of smut for one chapter. Better to do two chapters with a lot of smut :) Also, note some of the similarities between Oliver in this chapter and Ari in the previous one (e.g., the choice of pre-sex sleepwear).
> 
> Quick note - I am not a male, so... if I've gotten something wrong about like... the basics of how anatomy works or of the act itself, I am not insulted if you correct me, and I'll fix it in the story.
> 
> Thank you for sticking along with this crazy ride. There's still plenty more story to come, but from here on out, there is a lot less angst and a lot more fluff and smut.
> 
> Your comments have been awesome, and I really enjoy reading and responding to them. Thank you so much for comments/kudos/spreading this story around. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.


	35. The Last First Time, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also VERY NSFW :)

_**POV: Oliver, July 5, 2007** _

We lay silently, Elio's head on my chest, with our legs wrapped around one another's. This night had been perfect. I was pretty sure our breathing and heartbeats were synced. As I played with his hair, we heard the faint sounds of singing outside our window.

" _You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh,_ " we heard Ari and Jasmine singing at the top of their lungs. Elio picked the blue shirt up from the floor and put it on, leaving it unbuttoned, as we walked over to the window. We laughed as we saw the two of them stumbling into the house, still singing, and holding hands. I rest my head on Elio's shoulder. "I'm going to have to talk to him tomorrow and make sure they're being safe," I said.

Elio grabbed my hand and brought me back to the bed. "You're such a good father, Ari and Vic are so lucky to have you."

"I'm pretty good at other things that my children don’t need to know about," I said, raising my eyebrow suggestively.

"Oh? I guess you'll have to show me," he said, pushing me down and sitting on my stomach, straddling me with his legs. He started taking the shirt off.

“Leave that on,” I said. “I want you to ride me while you wear it. You look so fucking sexy when you wear my clothes, it turns me on so much.”

“I’ll have to raid your closet, then, and see what I can do,” he said, leaning down and nipping at my lip. “I’m surprised how quickly you get hard, in your advanced age,” he said, crawling down my body, licking the tip of my very hard cock.

“I forgot how much I missed your cock,” Elio said, licking and rubbing. As he slowly sucked on my length, he used one hand to rub up and down my shaft, while his other hand fondled my balls. This was fucking incredible. He then reached over to grab the bottle of lube and another condom. “Are you ready?” he asked.

I nodded, grabbing the condom from him and quickly putting it on. He gently rubbed lube on my hardness, and lowered himself onto me. As Elio kept himself upright, the shirt billowed with the wind. I watched him as he slowly raised that beautiful, lithe body up and down, and I ran my hands over his exposed chest. “Oliver… this.. is… incredible,” I said, between heavy breaths. His face contorted as he adjusted his angle. Elio’s eyes rolled backward and he let out a gasp as we reached his prostate.

“Elio,” he moaned, riding me up and down, his Star of David necklace bouncing on his neck. I grabbed his length and began stroking, watching as he writhed in pleasure. “I’m close,” he said, still rolling his hips. I began stroking him faster, egging on his orgasm. He came all over my stomach and chest, his warm and sticky secretion sticking to my skin and chest hair, and reached down to rub it in. I grabbed onto his hips as I felt myself nearing completion. I moaned loudly as I finally climaxed.

“I want to fuck you while you wear my clothes more often,” I said, “that was... fuck, that was good.”

* * *

I nuzzled his neck, and between kisses, I said, "I'm so happy you sent me that note this morning."

Elio giggled and squirmed a bit when some of the kisses tickled him. "What are you talking about? You sent  _me_ a note."

I kissed his belly as I reached over him to open my nightstand, and handed him the note. "Hold on, I'll be right back," he said, jumping out of bed and running into his room. He came back a moment later, and when he stood in front of the bed, I sized up his naked body from head to toe. I still couldn't believe I'd spent the past year holding back from this.

Elio hopped back into bed and handed me the note he had received. I looked it over, as Elio looked over the note that had been left in my room. "You don't think Marzia did this, do you? How would she have gotten into the house that early?" he asked.

"This definitely resembles my handwriting. This forgery screams Ari. He's been forging my signature on notes to school for years - he thinks I'm unaware of it. He figured out our history months ago, after he saw how we looked at each other in Princeton, and I told him a bit about the past year. But how would he have known about midnight? I didn't tell him about that," I said.

Elio bit his lip. "What are you not telling me?" I said, playfully pinching his perfect rear.

"I... may have accidentally told Vic about us. I was a little drunk after lunch one day, he asked me a question about 'when you and my dad were together,' and I didn't think before I responded. He said he's not stupid, and figured out that something had gone on between us, so I answered whatever questions he asked, within reason, and I took him to the berm a few days before Jasmine took us there."

We both started laughing as we were piecing it together. I buried my head in his neck, unable to stop laughing. "So, Ari's known for months, and Vic has known for days. Ari probably told Vic about us earlier, unless Vic is as perceptive as he claims to be. My kid is pretty damned smart, but I don't think he would have known otherwise. Jasmine taking us to the berm was not an accident, was it."

Elio shook his head. "I assume Vic told her about it. But this doesn't explain how your note strongly resembles my handwriting. I didn't write that."

I shrugged. "That one's a mystery."

He rest his head on me, wrapping his leg over mine. "I... I think my sons were trying to trick us and set us up with each other," I said.

Elio laughed. "So it seems."

"I'm glad they did it, this night has been perfect. I needed that kick in the ass to remind me how much I want to be with you."

"I can think of something else I'd like to do to that ass..." Elio said, with a devious grin.

“Enlighten me,” I said, smirking.

“Get on all fours,” he insisted. I immediately complied, my heart racing in anticipation. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but before I knew it, he gripped both of my cheeks, spreading them slightly, slowly running his tongue around my opening. “Ooooh,” I moaned loudly. Elio took that as a sign to continue. He flicked his tongue around deftly, squeezing my cheeks harder with his fingers. Any harder and he was definitely going to leave a mark, which I did not mind. He pointed his tongue, and I could feel him enter me, darting his tongue around.

“Fuck, I’m going to come soon,” I said, closing my eyes and enjoying what Elio was doing. He pulled away, quickly slid under me, and started jerking me instead. I changed my position and straddled his hips, and placed my hand over Elio’s as he continued to stroke me, helping guide him. I came swiftly, across his chest. I grabbed a tissue and wiped my semen, some of it sticking to his skin.

* * *

Later, my arm was draped around his stomach and my head on his shoulder. "I'm so happy here, tonight, with you," I said. "This feels like a real beginning, and not the beginning of the end."

"We can lay like this, together, for the rest of our lives. Forever. No expiration date. Just you and me, Elio and Oliver, Oliver and Elio."

I squeezed him tight, not wanting to let go. "I can't believe this was Ari and Vic's doing. I can't decide if it's creepy that they were tricking me into sex, or sweet that they want me to be with you."

"I think it's sweet," he said, rubbing my arm. "They just want you to be happy."

I sighed happily against his chest. "I guess this is why they've both separately told me that it's okay if I wanted to start dating again?"

"Are we 'dating'? We've never actually gone on a proper 'date' before," Elio said.

I thought about it. What were we? Boyfriend seemed like such a juvenile term, like it didn't encompass everything we felt about one another, our history, our future. For now, I'd just focus on being together and figure it the semantics another time. "We'll have to rectify that tomorrow. I'm going to take you on a romantic date. I'll wine and dine you, then I'll fuck your brains out, like I did tonight" I said, with a grin.

"Fuck, Oliver," he said, as I could feel him getting hard again against my leg. "Keep talking like that, and we're not going to get **any** sleep tonight." And just like that, we were off again.

* * *

"We should try to get some sleep now " I said, as we faced each other on our pillows. "I need to get up in a few hours and go run with the boys."

"What are you going to say to them tomorrow? Elio asked me.

"Not sure yet, but I need to say something to them. If not acknowledge what they did, then at least tell them that we are together. That way, we don't have to hide anymore."

"Are you sure? We can take our time, Elio said, running his fingers through my hair.

"I'm sure," I said, kissing his cheek. "I can't say I'm not nervous, but I'm sure that I'm ready to be public."

Elio grinned. "Good... Because I told my dad after he noticed I was wearing your watch tonight... And I told Marzia a few days ago, and Chiara this afternoon..."

I laughed and grabbed him tightly, pulling him closer to me. "Is there anyone you didn't tell?"

He nipped playfully at my nose and said, "Mafalda?"

We both collapsed into a fit of giggles. I looked over at my alarm clock, and I needed to get up in several hours. "Let's go to bed, please?"

Elio whimpered and conceded, turning around so I could spoon him. Though there was an equity of power in our relationship (or at least, we tried to keep the power balanced last time, and I wanted to this time, as well), I was almost always the big spoon, due to our difference in size. I didn't think he minded. I pulled the sheet over our torsos, kissed the back of his head, and closed my eyes to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter and the last one! I promise a lot more fluff (and smut) in the upcoming chapters.
> 
> I edited one of the scenes a bit based on Morgan98's suggestion about Elio wearing Billowy :)
> 
> Your comments on the last chapter were all so lovely :) Thank you for continuing to read and for commenting!


	36. Why Tell, When I Can Show?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another VERY NSFW chapter :)

_**POV: Elio, July 5, 2007** _

I opened my eyes as I woke up to the sounds of cows mooing and birds chirping. I realized that I was naked in Oliver's bed (I think I could safely call this our bed, I didn't plan on sleeping anywhere else the rest of this summer), and remembered every sordid detail of the last six hours. We had made each other come so many times last night that I lost count. Oliver was still asleep. I quietly slipped out of bed to use the restroom, and when I got back in, Oliver opened his eyes and looked at me, smiling widely.

“Go back to bed, your alarm doesn’t go off for another half hour or so,” I said, kissing his arm.

“How can I sleep, when you’re there next to me, looking so irresistible like that? Do you know what you do to me?” Oliver said.

“I want you to tell me what I do to you,” I said, running a finger down his chest.

Oliver grabbed my hand and put it on his crotch, which was already stiff. “Why tell, when I can show?”

I gripped his cock, tugging firmly, with as much pressure as he’d allow me to use.

“Fuck me, Oliver,” he said, grabbing my waist and pulling me on top of him. If I hadn’t been hard yet, this definitely did me in.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” I asked, obtaining permission to proceed. He nodded, and I said. “I promise I’ll go slow, and I’ll make it as good as possible for you.”

Oliver grinned at me, grabbing my hair and pressing his lips to mine. I returned the kiss with equal fervor. I ran my hands down his chest and sides, aching to feel as much of his skin as I could. I didn’t think I would ever, ever get bored of doing this, and I never wanted to be with anyone else again as long as I could be doing this with Oliver.

I grabbed his cock, sucking it slowly and purposefully, teasing him some. I positioned myself between his legs, and lapped at his balls, eventually teasing at his entrance with my tongue, his hole twitching for more. He arched his body forward as I did this, moaning loudly. Then, I reached over to the nightstand to grab the lube, put some on my fingers, and slowly entered him, running my index finger in small circles against his insides. I did this for a minute or two, as he squirmed a bit, adjusting to my touch. He eventually relaxed, resting his head backward, moaning a bit. “I think I can handle more,” he said, making eye contact. Fuck, I loved when Oliver was docile like this, naked and erect, ready to submit to me, allowing and trusting me to control his pleasure. I knew how difficult this was for him, and watching him let go and give in to his desires drove me mad.

I did what he asked, removing my finger, adding more lube, and using two fingers. As I slowly moved my fingers, he spread his legs more, raising his hips toward me. At once, he screamed, “Oh, God, right there, that’s amazing,” so I kept at it. He was very, very hard, and was leaking precum. As I fingered him, I brought my lips to his cock, and began sucking gently, savoring his taste. I looked up at him while I did this - I loved watching him squirm in pain and pleasure, adjusting to my pressure, trying to last. “I’m ready,” he said. “Elio, I want you inside of me.”

His wish was my command. I wiped my hand on a towel I had put on the nightstand last night, and grabbed a condom, rolling it on, and preparing myself with more lubricant. I pushed myself inside of him slowly, giving him time to adjust to the added volume and pressure. We made eye contact, and he smiled softly at me. “Is this good?” I asked, wanting him to enjoy this as much as possible.

“This is amazing. I want to feel you in my stomach, in my throat,” he said, and I thrust myself deeper. Eventually, I found a steady rhythm, rocking as deep inside him as I could go. We swore some more, we said each other’s names, we said our own names. I gently gripped his cock, jerking it to the same rhythm I was thrusting. “Ohhh, Oliver,” he said, coming quickly, our stomachs and chests a sticky mix of sweat and semen. I climaxed soon after, watching him smile at me from below. "We are definitely doing this again later," he said, kissing me after I pulled out of him.

After I tossed the condom in the bathroom trash, I slid back into bed, ready to fall back asleep. Oliver kissed me gently, and I wrapped my arm around him as I placed my head on the pillow to go back to sleep. Suddenly, his alarm went off. “No!” I said. “Don’t run today, stay with me, let’s sleep until the afternoon.”

“You know I never miss a run,” he said, kissing my shoulder blade, and climbing out of bed. “I’ll be back in an hour. I think I may need to wash up before the run, though,” he said, smirking, indicating the Jackson Pollock painting that was our bodies and the sheet. Oliver tucked me into bed, and I immediately fell asleep.

* * *

I woke up an hour later, to Oliver stripping off his gym clothes. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

“We got maybe two hours of sleep, how are you able to function?” I asked him. “Let’s sleep some more. Need you in bed with me now.”

“I need to shower, I just went for a four mile run,” he said, pulling off his shirt.

I quickly jumped out of bed. “Then I am showering with you.” Oliver smiled at me, opened the bathroom door, and I followed him in. Fortunately, I was still naked. He turned on the shower, to a fairly hot temperature.

“After you,” he said. I stepped into the shower, under the hot stream. Oliver immediately began kissing my neck after he stepped in with me.

“My, we’re insatiable, aren’t we,” I said, tilting my head.

“Just making up for lost time,” he said, nibbling on my shoulder. How either of us had the energy for this after the past eight hours, I would never know, but I never wanted this to stop.

As I faced him, in one fell swoop, I grabbed his hardness and mine, and began tugging us both simultaneously, back and forth. Oliver used one arm to prop himself against the shower wall, and grabbed my ass with the other hand, as he kept kissing my neck and torso. The combination of the water hitting my back, his hand on my ass, his lips on my neck, and his cock in my hand, I was almost over the edge in no time. I came over my hand, his cock, and the shower, but fortunately, the running water washed most of it away instantly. He came on me soon after. I reached for my soap, lathered up, and began rubbing my hands over his chest, stomach, and back, scrubbing away any remaining evidence from last night and this morning. Oliver reciprocated, washing me off.

* * *

After our shower, we got dressed and prepared to head outside for breakfast. “How was your run? Are you feeling okay?” I asked him, watching him pull on a pair of boxers.

“I was a little sore when I was running, but it only reminded me of what we had done, so it was a good kind of pain,” he said, looking for a pair of shorts.

"When are you going to tell the boys about us?" I asked. I wanted to hold his hand at the table, be able to kiss him at will. I wondered how affectionate Oliver would be in public, since we never got to be before.

"After lunch, I think. After your lesson with Vic and Ari's morning work, definitely." A few hours, I could wait a few hours.

"So where are you taking me tonight?" I asked coyly.

"It's a secret," he said. "Actually, I'm not sure yet, I don't really know what restaurants are good for dates around here. Are you okay going out into town, or do you want to go a few towns over?"

"Let's stay here. We're not hiding anything," I said, grinning. Oliver was mine, and I wanted to show it off to the world. I didn't care if anyone judged us.

He came over to me and gave me the briefest of kisses.

"Do you want to stagger heading down to breakfast?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, let's go down together."

I ruffled my hair in the mirror, slipped on my shoes, and grabbed his hand. "Let's go get some breakfast, then. I am famished after all of that exercise we've gotten today."

We released each other’s hands at the top of the stairs, and headed outside. My parents were already at the table. I gave my mother and father a kiss good morning, and sat at my usual seat. My mother looked at Oliver, and then at me, and gave me a knowing smile. I gave her the slightest nod, indicating that her suspicions were correct.

I grabbed the pot of coffee, poured myself a glass, and took a sip - I needed the caffeine badly.

Jasmine was next to arrive at the table, and she looked unusually disheveled and hungover. She sat down, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sipped in silence. Ari and Vic arrived a few minutes later. Vic immediately sat across from me, excitedly chattering about the piece of music we were transcribing today, while Ari looked like a zombie. He sat next to Jasmine, and his hand lingered over hers as he reached for the jar of Nutella, and she smiled softly at him as he passed her an egg. They were so adorable together.

“Hey Dad, do you have a minute after breakfast to talk?” Ari said to Oliver.

“Is this about the personal statement we were talking about yesterday?” Oliver asked.

“Oh, yeah, it’s about that,” he said.

As most of us were sitting silently, my father told us about how an article he’d submitted several months ago had finally been accepted by a prestigious journal, with minimal edits needed. He described the contents of the paper, but I was so tired, so I was barely paying attention.

Oliver grabbed my hand under the table, squeezing tightly. Very soon, we’d be able to do this in the open, and I couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind words you've been giving me the past few days! I'm glad you're all enjoying the turn the story took - I've been building to this for so long, so I'm glad I'm finally able to share the happy and fluffy parts of the story :)


	37. Coming Clean

_**POV: Ari, July 5, 2007** _

I followed Dad into his office after breakfast, as everyone headed to their morning routine: Annella was gardening with Anchise before heading to Marzia's to babysit Noemie for a few hours, Jasmine went to Professor Perlman’s office with Pro, and Elio and Vic went to the living room for their piano lesson.

“You wanted to show me your personal statement?” Dad asked, eyebrow raised.

“You know I haven’t worked on it since yesterday.” I closed the door to the office, to give us some privacy.

“I figured,” Dad said, gingerly sitting down in his chair, repositioning himself several times. His chair did look old and uncomfortable.

I sat in Elio’s chair, across from Dad. “So… Jasmine and I hooked up last night.”

“Did you use protection like we’ve talked about?” he asked.

“Ugh, Dad, we didn’t have sex! Jasmine and I talked about it, and neither of us has done it before, and we’re not ready yet. We just like, fooled around a bit, and we fell asleep cuddling. Dad, I really, really like Jasmine. She’s amazing. She’s so smart, and funny, and nerdy, and pretty, and has amazing boobs, and is pretty dexterous with her hands…,” I added, my cheeks turning red.

Dad smiled at me. “Well, I’m glad you found each other, then. I think you’re good together, and she's a lovely girl. I heard you coming home last night, you were both singing loudly.”

“Sorry if we woke you, we were still a little bit drunk and having a good time." I leaned on the desk, trying to figure out how to ask my question. "When... how do you know when you’re ready for sex?” I asked him.

He ran his hand through his hair, thinking about how to respond. “I think you'll just know when you’re ready. As long as you communicate openly with your partner, and make sure you’re both always on the same page, I think you’ll figure it out. We should go into town later, to buy you condoms, just in case.”

I nodded. Buying condoms with your father was awkward, but he was right that I should have them on hand in case things do get hot and heavy. I could go buy them myself, but I think he wanted to make this a  _ **WHOLE THING**_ , and I wasn't going to get out of it. “I really liked sleeping next to her. I wish I could do that every night. You... don't mind that I slept there, do you?”

Dad shook his head. “No, you're old enough to make your own responsible decisions. Cuddling is nice, and even if I didn't want you to sleep there, I couldn't stop you. So should I be looking for you in Jasmine’s room instead of the attic in the mornings when we go for a run?”

I smiled, and nodded. “I think so, as long as she’ll let me sleep there.”

“Ari, just remember to always, ALWAYS, ask for consent before escalating the level of intimacy. And no matter how far along you are, even if you are midway through having sex, if she tells you to stop, you stop, no questions asked.”

“DAD! I know all of this.”

Dad continued. “I just want to reiterate everything to you, and make sure you know to always obtain consent. If you are going to have sex,  **always** use a condom, even if she is on the pill. For starters, contraception is not just the woman's responsibility, and you don't know if she's taking the pill properly, or if she's done anything that could affect it, like taking an anti-biotic. Condoms don't change sex all that much, and you’ll be happier when you don’t get an STI and don't get her pregnant. Enjoy yourself, because sex is wonderful, and you’re going to have plenty of great sex in your life, but you should never, ever pressure her or feel pressured to do anything.”

“I know…” I said, a bit embarrassed. It was kind of weird how okay he was with all of this, but he'd always been pretty cool about sex and drinking/pot.

“We’ll go into town after lunch, okay?”

“Sounds good, Dad. I should get to Pro’s office, I’m on scanning duty today.”

I scampered off to his office, to do my work for the day.

Professor Perlman was on the phone when I got to to his office. Jasmine was sitting at her laptop, typing away. She poked her head up when I walked in, smiled at me, and resumed working. At least I wasn't too much of a distraction, but she was too smart and driven to let me get in the way of accomplishing her goals.

* * *

Before lunch, Ari, Jasmine and I decided to take a quick swim in the pool. As we waded around, Vic said, “Do you think the notes worked?”

Jasmine nodded. “I do. They both seemed happy and at ease at breakfast." I made a face, indicating that I thought it was a gross thought. "How was Elio during your piano lesson?”

“I couldn’t really tell. He was more tired than both of you look right now.” Vic said. “Though, I did notice that he was wearing Dad’s watch. I recognized the band and the small scratch on the face from when I accidentally dropped it when I was little, when Dad took it off during Chanukah to make latkes, and I played with it and dropped it on the floor.”

I swam closer to Vic. “Are you sure it was his Zayde’s watch? The 'you're my sun and my soul and we're going to make it through this dangerous journey to America together' watch?"

“What do you mean?" Jasmine asked. 

Vic and I told her about Dad's grandparents, and what the watch symbolized in the family. 

"Aww!” Jasmine said. “That is so sweet! I bet Oliver gave it to Elio to profess his love!" 

"Do you think?" Vic said. "Why wouldn't Dad have told us?" 

"Oh, hey sons, I'm madly in love with a man now despite having previously been married to your mother for 18 years, and I have given him my most cherished family heirloom to profess my love. And by the way, the first time we were together, when your mother and I were on a break, he was seventeen and I was in grad school. Hope you're cool having a step-dad!" I said, imitating Dad's voice. "I think he's waiting to figure out what to tell us. It's kind of a weird situation. Except he'd told me about Elio months ago, so maybe if they were together now, he'd have already told me." 

Jasmine shrugged. "Maybe you're right. We'll give it a few days to do some investigating and then we'll come up with a new course of action."

"Elio was willing to divulge some information when he was a little drunk, maybe I can get him high and see what he tells me?" I suggested. 

Jasmine raised her eyebrow and Vic said, aghast, "Are you going to secretly drug him?" 

I laughed. "I didn't tell you guys that Elio smoked with me the other night? He saw me on the balcony and asked me to pass the joint to him. Said he was having a very stressful day. Maybe I should offer him some pot again. He was surprisingly cool." 

"That'll be our last resort," Jasmine said. We floated around in silence for a while, thinking about what else we could do.

Vic dipped underwater and did a handstand, then came back up for air. "What about you two? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked bluntly. "You two have been looking at each other the way Elio looks at Dad since we got back from the party." 

I looked at Jasmine, trying to read her for an answer. "I think we're seeing where things go, and enjoying spending time together this summer," Jasmine said. She swam closer to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I like your brother, if that answers your question, Vic." 

I blushed, and Vic nodded. "Good, I like you a lot more than any of the other girls he's dated. You're the only one who treats me like a person and not just Ari's kid brother."

Jasmine took my hand and squeezed it, smiling at me. I understood everything she wasn't saying aloud. We had another month or so here, we'd enjoy it and see where we were at the end of the summer. Labels weren't necessary.

* * *

After lunch, Dad grabbed me and Vic (why was Vic coming? Was it to embarrass me?) to go into town, under the guise of taking us for gelato, when in fact, I knew he was taking me to buy me condoms. We rode our bikes, and when we went to lock them up in the town square, Dad said, with a serious deadpan, "Do you two think you're funny?" 

"What are you talking about, Dad?" Vic asked. 

"That was a nice trick you pulled on me yesterday." 

I shrugged, giving Dad an " _I have no idea what you're talking about_ " look. I glanced nervously at Vic.

"Would one of you like to come clean now, please?" Dad said. He looked at Vic, then at me, trying to size us up and see whom the culprit was.

"It was me! I did it! Don't punish Ari, it was my fault," Vic said, starting to cry. "I found out about the midnight note from your first summer here, so I said we should send similar notes to you and Elio to trick you into seeing each other! Ari had nothing to do with it!"

I put my hand on Vic's shoulder. "He's lying, Dad, it was me, I forged the notes. Vic tricked Elio into telling him details of your summer together, and found out about the note, and I wrote them yesterday."

Dad pulled Vic, who was sobbing now, into a hug. "Oh, Pup, don't cry, I was only joking! I was only trying to play the bad cop to scare you! You're not in trouble."

Vic sniffled, and wiped his tears with his shirt. "We’re not?" 

"No, you're not." Dad bent down and locked his bike, and stood back up.

"So...did the notes work? Are you... with Elio?" Vic asked. 

Dad nodded sheepishly. "We... talked it over for a long time last night, and decided that we want to be together, but that I had to run it by you two before we went public about anything. I know this is probably strange for you boys, especially given that he... that Elio's a male. This is new territory for me, too, and if either of you has a problem with it, I can tell Elio that we're not ready as a family for me to date yet."

"Oh, Dad, I'm so happy for you!" Vic said, pulling Dad into another hug, tears (this time happy ones) spilling from his tear ducts. "If Elio makes you happy, I'm happy. He's so wonderful!" 

"Are you okay with this, Ari?" Dad asked me. 

I stood off to the side, my arms behind my back, with my legs crossed. "We've already talked about this, Dad. If you want to be with Elio, you should be with Elio. He's probably the coolest person who'd ever be willing to date you, anyway," I said, sticking my tongue out. Dad jabbed me in the ribs playfully.

We walked to go get gelato before going to the pharmacy. As we walked around eating (today's flavor, pistachio - Carmela gave us extra scoops for free), Dad asked, "So, why did you send the notes?"

"We've been trying to set you up all summer, you've just been too stubborn to notice," I said. 

"That's the whole reason we're in Italy in the first place," Vic said, taking a giant lick of his cone.

"What are you talking about? We had this trip planned for months before Ari and I talked about my history with Elio," Dad said to me.

"We knew for a while before that," I said. 

"How long have you known? Did your mother tell you about him?" 

"Mom knew about Elio?" Vic asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

Dad nodded. "I told her everything that happened during my summer in Italy before we got back together again and got engaged. She was okay with it, she understood that you can't help who you fall in love with. I also loved your mother very much, you both realize that, right?" 

We both nodded, and Dad continued.

“With Elio… what we had, during the summer we spent together, was so different and special. I’d never experienced anything like it before. But it couldn’t last. He lived in Italy, and I lived in New York. He was just so young, and I didn’t want him to make life decisions based on me, I wanted him to be free to live his own life. Also, it was a different time, and it was very hard to be a man who dates another man, in public. We could only be together in secret, and I was scared to be who I truly was. Fortunately, I had your mother, and she was amazing. Then we had you. Do I wish things could have played out differently with Elio? Sometimes, but I love the life your mother and I built, I loved your mother, and then I wouldn’t have had the two of you, and you are the most important people in my life. But you didn’t answer my question - how long have you two known?”

"We've known about Elio since the Bar Mitzvah, that’s when we decided we needed to figure out a plan," I added. 

" **SINCE THE BAR MITZVAH**? You've been planning this for almost a year? How did you find out then? Was it Sammy?" 

"Umm... Remember when I got Vic totally smashed? We were drinking in the bridal suite and we hid in the closet when you and Elio came in. We heard your whole conversation," I said. 

"And saw you make out," Vic added. 

Dad turned bright red. "I can't believe you've known this whole time. I also can't believe how good you two were at lying and hiding it, makes me wonder what else you’ve been hiding."

"Nothing else! We swear! I tell you everything I do, anyway. We weren't that good at lying, you just didn't want to notice," I said with a shrug. 

"So, tell me the whole thing from the beginning, after the Bar Mitzvah, I need to know just how mischievous you two were."

"Are you going to ground us?" Vic asked. 

"No, but I'd appreciate the whole truth," Dad said. 

We told him the whole story, with as many details as we could muster, including that Jasmine was helping us.

After he finished his ice cream cone, Dad wrapped an arm around each of us. "You both realize how bonkers this whole situation is, right?" 

“Very much so,” I said. “But we love you, and you were so lonely and depressed after Mom died. When we realized that Elio was _the one that got away_ , and that he was also single and felt the same way about you, we decided we needed to intervene, because you would have never done it on your own.”

Dad ruffled my hair. “I love you both, so much. I don’t say it enough, but I really do.”

“We love you too, Dad,” Vic said.

We walked around the town square some more, toward the pharmacy. When we got there, Dad said, “Hey Vic, Ari and I are going inside, we’ll just be a minute, okay?”

“Why can’t I come in? What are you hiding from me? Is it because… OH! Are you buying condoms? ARE YOU HAVING SEX WITH JASMINE?” Vic said.

“ **WE ARE NOT READY TO HAVE SEX YET!** ” I said, a bit louder than I should have. “But yes, we’re buying condoms, just so I’m prepared in case we do…”

“Just get inside, both of you,” Dad said, opening the pharmacy door. “Vic, go buy yourself some candy, Ari and I will need a few minutes.”

Vic snickered as he walked toward the candy section.

Dad grabbed a basket, took me to the family planning section of the pharmacy, and he showed me the condoms. “This store is pretty small, so they don’t have much of a selection, but in a big store, or at a convenience store at home, you’ll have a lot of options. Let me just say, as much as you might want to think you need a king-sized or Magnum condom, you don’t. They’re just made to boost the male ego, and there’s a bigger chance they will slip off. A regular condom can accommodate almost any size.”

My cheeks were turning red. “Dad, stop, let’s just grab a box and get out of here.”

“If you’re mature enough to be having sex, you’re mature enough to talk about sex with me,” Dad said.

“But I’m **NOT** having sex yet.”

“But it’s in the realm of possibility, so you have to be prepared and know what you’re getting into. Let’s see what they have here…” he grabbed two different boxes, trying to read the Italian. “This one is spermicidal, and this one is regular. Just get the regular, they’re just as effective. At a bigger store, you’d have other options, like thinner material or ribbing, some of which they advertise being for your partner's pleasure. Just go with the normal ones, unless your partner has a preference. I’ve never found that the kind of condom has made that much of a difference.”

“EWWW! Dad, gross!” I said, covering my ears.

Dad laughed, and grabbed two boxes of regular condoms. “I’m not even having sex, we’re just trying to be prepared in case I do, I don’t need that many… OH! Ew!” Oh my god, oh my god, ew, ew, ew, ew. Dad and Elio were definitely fucking. He was buying one box of condoms for himself. I did not ever want that mental picture. I also wasn't sure of the mechanics of it, and who did what, and honestly, I did not want to know. This was my FATHER.

He shrugged, and put the two boxes in the basket. “Ari, what did you think was going to happen when you spent your summer trying to set me up with Elio?”

“Ugh, I don’t know, Dad, can we just stop talking about this? I did not think I would ever have to stand in a store, listening to my father talk about his condom preferences…”

“And I never thought my teenage sons would try to set me up with a man, but here we are. Would you rather have a father with whom you couldn’t talk about this sort of thing, and left you completely unprepared?”

I shook my head. “No, I guess not… can we just get out of here and go back to the villa, please?”

“I’m glad we can have conversations like this, Ari, even if it makes you feel awkward at times. I could never talk about sex with my own father, and I’m happy that we have a close enough relationship that you feel comfortable telling me details about your life. You’ll appreciate this relationship when you’re older.”

Dad took the basket to the register, where Vic was waiting with a handful of Kinder Bueno bars. Dad went to pay, and Vic and I went outside. “So, when are you having sex with Jasmine?” Vic asked, smirking.

“I already said, I’m not! Dad just wanted me to be prepared, just in case Jasmine and I do eventually decide to do it. It might happen, I don’t know. We fooled around last night.”

After Dad paid, we walked back to our bikes, and rode back to the villa. Dad gave me a bag from the pharmacy, and I quickly ran to the attic, keeping the box of condoms in my nightstand. I was glad I was prepared, but I certainly didn’t feel ready to have sex with Jasmine. Yet. Maybe some time in the near future. We still had the whole summer ahead of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is up later than usual today, but better late than never!
> 
> I'm so glad you all like the fluffy and sexy (or at least, sexual) Elio/Oliver chapters :)
> 
> I hope this chapter wasn't too awkward for you all! I wanted Oliver to be open and direct about sex with Ari (though, in his blissed out, over-sexed, dopamine and oxytocin-filled state, he might have been TOO direct...), because he wants his son to have healthy relationships and have a normal sex life.


	38. Something Quaint and Romantic

_**POV: Oliver, July 5, 2007** _

On the bike ride back to the villa, I couldn’t help think about how the villa, this town, Italy, was a place where all three Morgenstern men were having formative life and sexual experiences. My boys were growing up, and frankly, so was I - Vic had his first kiss, Ari was probably going to have intercourse for the first time fairly soon, and I had FINALLY slept with Elio again.

It had taken me nearly a year to accept it, but I want to be with Elio, more than I’d ever wanted anything. I had been irregularly seeing a psychiatrist (on the recommendation of the grief counselor) since Deb’s death, and in one of my sessions, I had told her about my history with Elio, and my past with men. She told me that if I wanted to be with a man, I shouldn’t let what my dead father would think stand in my way. There is nothing wrong with same-sex attraction, and we’re living in a very different, more accepting time. People will always be bigots, but we can have a loving and public relationship, if I’m willing to put in the work.

Now that I’d told my sons, and they were shockingly great about it (in fact, I couldn’t believe that they had orchestrated the whole thing, and had been playing me for months), Elio and I were going to be a couple, publicly, for the first time. I was nervous, but I wanted to be happy, and I wanted to be with Elio. I needed to stop caring about what other people thought of me. My own sons had PUSHED ME toward him - if my own flesh and blood encouraged the relationship, the rest of the world would understand and not stand in our way.

Last night (well, this morning) with Elio was incredible. It was as if no time had passed at all, and I was still 24, except now my body couldn’t bend in certain ways and some positions caused my joints to crack and muscles to stiffen. Elio hadn’t changed too much - a little more hair and muscle definition in certain places, a couple of wrinkles and additional freckles in others. Our bodies needed no time to get reacquainted - instinct showed us exactly what the other wanted and needed, and we couldn’t get enough of each other. How did I live twenty years without his intoxicating touch? How were we going to survive when the summer was over, and we couldn’t have each other every day? We hadn’t spoken about it, but I knew we would make it work somehow. If I had to, once Vic was in college, I would move to New Jersey to be with him. In the meanwhile, we’d have weekends and summers.

After I returned to the villa with the boys, I saw Elio asleep in our bed when I went to put the condoms away. I quietly slipped out of the room, allowing him to nap, and went downstairs to work. I grabbed a soda from the kitchen and took my laptop outside, to get some writing done.

Annella was sitting at the table, smoking a cigarette. “Hello, Oliver, care to join me?” she asked.

I took the seat across from her, placing my laptop down and taking a sip of my soda. “How are you doing?” I asked her.

“I’m great, I spent my morning at the Giordano villa, watching Noemie while Marzia had to make some phone calls for work. That girl is adorable, but completely draining,” Annella said, with a smile. “I’m glad I had my hip replaced, or else I wouldn’t be able to keep up with her.”

“Noemie is so sweet, but she seems even more active than my boys were at her age,” I said, leaning back into my chair.

“Your boys are both so wonderful - Sammy is really enjoying working with Ari. He says he’s quite bright and has a great academic future ahead of him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s convinced Ari to apply to classics programs by the end of the summer. And Vic is just a delight. What a sweet and respectful boy. And the way he looks up to Elio, makes my heart warm.”

I grinned. I loved how Elio and Vic interacted, and I was glad that Vic was going to have Elio in his life for a long time now. “They have so much in common. There have been times during Vic’s childhood when he’s sat at the piano, and all I could see was Elio sitting there. Honestly, it broke my heart sometimes, because I couldn’t just call Elio and see what he was up to, how he was doing, how his music was going.”

“You and Elio are together again, no?” she said, tapping her cigarette idly on the ashtray.

Elio said that he’d already told his father, so it made sense that Annella knew, too. I wasn’t going to deny it. I nodded my head, and said, “We are. I care about Elio, very, very much. I don’t ever want to lose him again.”

“I always knew you’d make your way back to each other,” she said, with a smile, placing her cigarette-free hand over mine. “I’m so glad to welcome you back to the family. You and your boys. I hope you don’t mind that I plan on spoiling them as if they were my own grandchildren.”

“Just don’t let them get away with TOO much,” I said. Was this Annella’s way of saying that she accepts that she’s probably not going to have grandchildren of her own now? Elio and I had just gotten together again, it was too soon to talk about children, given that I already had two of my own that were almost grown. I didn’t want to think about things like that right now, I wanted to stay in our blissful Italian love cocoon. “Your family has always been way too kind and generous to me, I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you do, darling, you’re wonderful. Elio has told us about your family and past, and I just wanted to let you know, that we love and support you. You’ve done so well for yourself, with your career, your family, and you make Elio so happy. Elio is a good kid, but he needs some coddling sometimes, and I know that you’ll take good care of him when we’re not able to,” Annella said.

“I think we’re going to take good care of each other, at least for as long as he’ll let me. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Annella squeezed my hand and took a puff of her cigarette. “Well, we’re happy to have you here, and we’re glad that you and Elio are together once more.”

I took another sip of my soda. I couldn’t believe how willingly the Perlmans had just accepted me back in their lives, given how much I’d hurt Elio in the past. I never planned on hurting him again.

“So… I was thinking that I wanted to take Elio out tonight, on a proper date, since we were never able to do that years ago. Is there anywhere in town where I could take him for a nice dinner? Something quaint and romantic?”

Annella grinned. “I know just the place, this little fancy bistro opened in town a few years ago, on a small alley not far from the town square. Sammy took me there for our anniversary last year. I can give you the directions, do you want me to call them and make a reservation for you?”

“Are you sure? I can call myself,” I said.

“Nonsense, I can do it. Anyway, the proprietor barely speaks English, and I’ve known him for years. I bet he can squeeze you in tonight. Do you need to borrow the car?”

“I would appreciate that, thank you!” The Perlmans constantly amazed me with their never-ending generosity. Annella went inside to make a phone call, so I grabbed my laptop and went toward heaven to work. Annella came back out a few minutes later and told me that she was able to make an 8PM reservation. It was 4PM, so I still had some time to work before getting ready to head out.

I went back up to my room a while later, and Elio was still sprawled across the bed, sleeping soundly. If I crawled into bed with him now, I was either not going to wake up for our date, or we were never going to leave the bed today. I went into his room, looking through his closet, and pulled out a pale pink button down shirt, black slacks, a blazer, a pair of black dress socks, and his black leather oxfords. When I ruffled through his underwear drawer, I found a pair of boxers with a ridiculous sheet music pattern (not dissimilar to the ugly ties we wore at Vic’s Bar Mitzvah). I grabbed those, too, with the plans of wearing those myself. They were going to be a little tight, but they should fit, and I wanted to surprise him later.

I then quietly went into my closet, and took out my pink plaid tie. I hung the clothing on the edge of the bed, placing the socks and shoes on the floor, and set the alarm clock so Elio would wake up and find everything waiting for him. Then, I dug around the closet for my own dressy outfit, taking the clothing into Elio’s room so I could change later. Honestly, I was surprised he slept through it all, but I did wear him out last night. I grabbed a notepad, and left a note with the clothing. 

_**Oliver,** _   
_**Put this on and meet me in front of the house at 7 PM. Underwear is optional.** _   
_**Elio** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter before Oliver and Elio's date night!
> 
> Have I mentioned how wonderful you all are? I really appreciate all of your support and comments.


	39. The First Date, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW content here :)

_**POV: Elio, July 5, 2007** _

“Oliver, stay in bed, I don’t wanna get up,” I said, as the alarm clock went off. I shut it off, and rolled back over. “Skip your run, snuggle with me instead,” I said. I reached over to grab him and keep him in bed, when I realized that Oliver wasn’t in bed with me. I slowly came to my senses. It was evening, the late summer sun still blazing into the bedroom, and I’d spent the majority of the afternoon asleep. Why did the alarm go off?

I looked around the room, and saw some clothing hanging off the bedpost with a note attached. 

_**Oliver,** _  
_**Put this on and meet me in front of the house at 7 PM. Underwear is optional.** _  
_**Elio** _

Underwear is optional? If he insisted… How was it possible that he could even turn me on with a two sentence note? Where was he taking me?

It was 6:30. I had time to shower again and get dressed. During my shower, as I washed my hair, I thought about how much I had enjoyed our shower this morning, and how the shower felt empty without Oliver in there with me. I was so completely, fully, head-over-heels for him. I had always been, but since last night, I knew, I just KNEW, that this time, I could let myself fall completely. He was never going to leave me again.

I felt like I was Dorothy Gale. Everything in my life had been in black and white, and then suddenly, last night, the twister carried me into the Land of Oz, where I’m suddenly seeing everything in Technicolor for the first time. I never wanted to go back to Kansas again.

I shaved, put some mousse in my hair to give it an extra curl, the way Oliver has commented he likes it, and put on the clothing Oliver had laid out for me, sans boxer shorts. After spritzing on some cologne, I went to go outside to meet Oliver. As I walked down the stairs, and through the living room, my parents were sitting on the couch watching television. My mother was resting her head on my father’s shoulder, idly running her fingers on the back of his neck. “My, you look dapper,” my father said, adjusting his glasses to take a better look.

My mother got off of the couch and came over and gave me a hug. “You look so handsome, tesoro. You should see how nice Oliver looks, too. Have a wonderful time tonight.” Did my mother know anything about tonight? Did she know that Oliver and I were about to go on a real, bonafide date?

“Thanks, maman,” I said, returning the hug. How did I get so lucky? I had two amazingly supportive parents, who loved me and had provided me with the world, and did not care that I wanted to spend my life with a man. A wonderful, handsome, intelligent, caring, giving, sexy, tall, stubborn, perfect man. 

Oliver stood in front of the Fiat, wearing a similar outfit (his shirt was white, and his tie was pale green with white polka dots), with his hair slicked back. He hadn’t shaved today, and his scruff gave him a mysterious and seductive allure.

I smiled as I walked over to him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. “You look so sexy tonight,” I said, angling my neck upward and pressing my lips to his. He returned the kiss gently, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“I’m glad you got my note,” he said, grinning. He ran his finger along the knot of the tie, which I assumed was his because it was his.

Suddenly, I heard a catcall from the side of the house. Ari had whistled into his thumb and forefinger, and then waved at us. He and Vic had been kicking around a soccer ball, while Jasmine sat in a chair off to the side with a book. “Lookin’ sharp!” Ari shouted at us.

Vic ran over to us and grabbed my middle, gave me a tight hug. “I’m so happy for both of you!” he said, and ran back to Ari, who was clearing his throat, trying to tell Vic that he should leave us alone. Jasmine started giggling, and waved at us.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Ari said, as he held the soccer ball under his arms.

Oliver walked to the passenger side of the car, opened the door for me, and I hopped in. He walked back around the car (how could I not sneak a peak at his ass while he walked?), and sat in the driver’s seat. He rolled down the windows, started the car, and drove off.

“I take it that everything went well when you told the boys?” I asked.

“I’d say so,” Oliver said with a grin. “I’ll tell you more about that later.”

We drove the familiar route into town. “Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“Strangely, your mother suggested a restaurant, and insisted on making the reservation for me.”

I chuckled. “That doesn’t sound strange at all. That’s my maman.”

Oliver parked the car on a small, empty side road. Once the car was in park, and he had taken the key out of the ignition, I grabbed him by his tie and pulled him close to me, kissing him roughly. “Slow down,” he said, kissing me back. “Save something for later!”

“Will have plenty more left later. Need you now,” I said, kissing him hungrily. I looked out the window and saw that the entire alley was empty, and saw no signs of anyone passing through any time soon. “What time is our reservation?”

“It’s at 8, but I wanted to walk around with you first.”

“It’s only 7:15. Please just give me a few more minutes?” I begged.

He kissed me again. “How can I say no to you?” I lowered my seat as far as it would recline and pushed the seat back, giving myself more leg room. I cursed my father for being economical and buying a small car.

“Come here to my seat, right now,” I said. He maneuvered himself carefully over the levers and gears, snugly scooting into my seat with me. Before he could roll on top of me, I slid to the floor, and began unfastening his belt.

“Elio, we’re in a car, someone might see,” he said, leaning back into the seat.

“I don’t care who sees, need your cock in my mouth right now.” He groaned and arched his hips upward, making it easier to open his pants.

After opening his belt, I unzipped his trousers, and immediately released his hardness through the hole in his boxer shorts. Then I noticed what he was wearing, and immediately got hard. “Are you wearing my underwear?” I asked. “These are definitely the boxers that Marzia bought for me as a joke for Chanukah a few years ago.”

He nodded. “I thought I would surprise you in them later, not this early in the date. I thought I’d sit there the whole date, knowing that you didn’t know yet that I was wearing your boxers.”

“God, that is so hot. Fuck, this is such a turn on,” I said, guiding his fully erect cock out of the hole of the boxers. I lapped at the tip, and slowly began sucking, gently teasing him with my tongue. He ran his fingers through my hair, digging his fingers into my scalp like he usually did when I blew him. I needed to taste him, to drive him crazy, to make him scream in pleasure. After a few minutes, he came in my mouth, trying to muffle his moans by biting into the fabric of his blazer. I lapped up every last drop, then said, “Zip yourself back up, we should get going on that walk.”

“Not yet, we aren’t,” he said. “Switch places with me, I want to do you. Oh my god, I want to get you off so badly,” he said. We fumbled some as we tried to switch places, and accidentally knocked our heads together. I laughed, and he said, “the hazards of two tall men trying to fuck in a small car.”

He crouched below me, undoing my pants. Once he unzipped me, I heard him laugh and lick his lips. “Ooh! I did not think you’d take the note for my word,” Oliver said, when he noticed that I was going commando. “How am I supposed to last the entire dinner, knowing that you aren’t wearing any boxers?” He gently ran his finger down my cock, gripped me, and licked my tip, which was already leaking. “What a perfect appetizer for dinner,” he said, as he took my entire cock in his mouth, his warm, wet heat enveloping me.

As much as I loved doing anything sexual with Oliver, and I was game for anything and everything, there was nothing I enjoyed more than a good blow job from him. I was completely at his whim, he controlled the pressure, the speed, and ultimately, my pleasure. I could lie back passively, let my mind go, while he expertly sucked me to pure oblivion. During oral sex, his full attentions were on me, were solely focused on making me come as intensely as possible. If I could only have Oliver suck my cock for the rest of my life, and do nothing else, I would die happy and sated.

Though I could tell he was anxious about fooling around in an exposed car, he took his sweet time pleasuring me. His motions were slow and deliberate, and he knew just how to drive me crazy. “I’m close,” I muttered, biting my lip in anticipation. Oliver began sucking even slower and gentler, trying to delay my orgasm. He intentionally kept me on the edge for so long, that when I finally came, I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. After he swallowed, he licked my cock once more for good measure, and then licked his lips.

“Ready to go?” he asked, awkwardly maneuvering back to the driver’s seat, wiping his mouth with a tissue.

I was panting heavily. “I might need a minute to cool down,” I said, laughing. “I’ve never actually fooled around in a car before” I said.

“Your high school years were probably very different than mine, then,” Oliver said with a smirk.

A few minutes later, we exited the car. We adjusted our hair and clothing, in an attempt to look more presentable. Oliver locked the doors, walked over to me, and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go,” he said.

I could feel his pulse as I held his hand - his heart was racing, and I thought that he was nervous to be walking around, in public with a man for the first time. I squeezed his hand gently, trying to tell him that everything was going to be fine.

We walked around the town square, hand in hand. An old man gave us a dirty look, but other than that, we were greeted by smiles, and mostly by the indifference of people ignoring everyone else on the street as they went about their business. When we hit the Battle of Piave monument, Oliver gripped my sides, pulling me in close, and gave me a brief kiss. “I’ve wanted to kiss you here, since the first time we were here together. You were so brave, I would have never been able to tell you how I felt back then, like you did,” he said.

“You are brave,” I responded. “You’re here with me now, in public. You’ve told me how you feel. You can kiss me whenever, wherever you want to. I’m yours.”

We kissed once more. “What time is it,” Oliver asked, as he no longer had a watch. I would need to rectify that.

“It’s 7:50,” I said, reading the time off of the watch he gave me.

“Let’s head to the restaurant, then. Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for splitting this one into two. It was long, and I figured I'd draw out the cutesy and romantic chapters. Next chapter is also Elio's POV, then it'll be Oliver's POV.
> 
> Your continued kind words are giving me life. Thank you so much <3


	40. The First Date, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another NSFW warning!

_**POV: Elio, July 5, 2007** _

Oliver gripped my hand once more, and led me toward the restaurant. We turned down a couple of smaller alleys, until he led me to a small restaurant in the basement of an old building. We walked in, and it was a bistro I’d never been to before, which was surprising, as this was not a particularly large town.

In broken Italian, Oliver said to the host. “Annella Perlman called for me? Oliver Morgenstern, for 2?”

The host smiled and escorted us to a small table in the corner, near the kitchen. I looked over at the kitchen, and noticed that the chef was my parents' friend Alonzo. Made sense that this was the restaurant my mother would choose, we'd definitely get special attention.

We sat in chairs perpendicular to one another in our small table. The table was lit by candles, and a violinist was playing music in an alcove near the door. "How's this for a first date dinner location?" Oliver asked.

I squeezed his hand, smiling at him. "This is perfect. We'll have to thank my mother later."

We idly played with each other's hands as we waited for the waiter to bring us menus. A waiter finally appeared, with a bottle of wine. In Italian, he told us, "On the house," and poured us each a glass of red.

Oliver and I clinked our glasses together and took a sip. The waiter then said, "Tonight we'll be serving you our tasting menu, unless you'd prefer to order off of the regular menu." I translated for Oliver, and he said we'd do the tasting menu.

What followed was three hours and course after course of some of the most delicious pastas, cheeses and meats I'd ever eaten. As we shared a small plate of ricotta and mushroom gnudi, Oliver told me about his afternoon.

"The boys confessed to writing the notes," Oliver said. "Apparently it was only one small part of a larger plan to get us together."

"Larger plan? What else have they done?" I asked.

"They've been playing us for months. They've known about us since Vic's Bar Mitzvah."

"What did my father say to them?" Of course my father tried to play matchmaker. He did push me next to Oliver during the hora, makes sense he'd get the boys involved.

"Actually, they did this of their own accord. They were hiding in the closet drinking when we went into the room and kissed, and they saw the whole thing and heard our entire conversation."

I think my jaw actually dropped to the floor. I was pretty sure I had grabbed his crotch then. Did the boys see that? Had we traumatized them? "So they saw us kiss, heard us talk about the past, and then decided to set us up?"

Oliver nodded. "That was initially why Vic emailed you, to size you up and get to know you, under the guise of talking about music. The boys decided you were worthy of me, and, in their words, tried to ' _Parent Trap_ ' us." He took a sip of wine and continued. "Coming to Italy was Vic's idea. Ari needed some sort of unique summer job, so Vic suggested that if we came here, Ari would have a job with your dad who would never say no to them, and you wouldn't have said no to teaching him, so they could trap us in the same place all summer and work on getting us back together." He told me about all of their investigating, the picnic, the concert, and everything that they had been doing.

I started laughing hysterically. "They've been trying to set us up for an entire year? This is... Wow. Your boys are amazing."

Oliver tilted his head and smiled at me. "I have the best children in the world."

"And I have the best... Boyfriend? Lover? Partner? The best Oliver in the world. I am so happy that you're here, that we're together. I've never wanted anything so badly in my life, and I can't believe I have you again."

"I'm not sure what to call this, either. I think I like partner. My kids are certainly not going to be willing to refer to you as 'Dad's lover'. But you've got me for the long haul, I'm never leaving you."

I grinned at him. Partner. I have a partner. Oliver is my partner. Partner indicates history, a past, a future, a seriousness not represented by another lesser term. It legitimized everything we've been through. We weren't just together. We were partners.

Over pappardelle with duck ragu, Oliver told me about the presentation he was giving at a philosophy conference at the Sorbonne in August. "It's not the keynote, but it's pretty prestigious, and they've booked me for the largest room. I'm nervous that no one is going to attend."

"Trust me when I say your presentation is going to be standing room only. You're going to do amazingly. I've seen you lecture, no one can keep their eyes off of you, even the straight boys."

Oliver chuckled, "I'm not so sure about that, I usually find some of the students on Facebook or their email on their laptops during class. But an audience of academics, maybe you're right."

"Have you ever been to Paris before?" I asked him. "We used to go every couple of years, to visit my mother's family, and now I go and stay with Marzia, but I haven't been in a few years."

"Once in college, and a couple of times since. An academic conference a few years ago, and we went while Deb was pregnant with Ari. I'm taking the boys with me, I think we'll have a nice couple of days there. I figured they can explore together while I'm at the conference." Oliver took another sip of wine and said, "You should go to Paris with us!"

I shook my head. "Oliver, I don't want to intrude on your family trip."

"Nonsense. You're a part of my life now, a part of the family, don't feel like you're intruding."

I grinned. It would be wonderful to go to Paris with Oliver and his boys. "J'adorerais aller à Paris avec to."

Oliver made a suggestive growling noise. "You should speak French to me more often," he said. "It is very, very sexy when you speak French. Or Italian. Or English."

He looked around, then placed his hand on my crotch, very easily finding my length (given I was not wearing any boxers). I made a soft noise, and gave him a look that said " _I love what you're doing, but let's wait until we get out of here_." This didn't stop him, and only made him friskier.

I leaned my head toward him, and gave him quick kiss. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through my coiffed curls and kissed me back, nipping at my bottom lip before pulling away. His other hand was still stroking me through my pants.

I steadied my breathing, gripping the edge of the table and biting my lip, trying very hard to not stain my nice trousers. Oliver was making it very difficult. "So, Elio, tell me about the syllabus you were working on the other day. What composers are you focusing on?" He asked, teasing me. He had a firm grip on me through the fabric, and was running him thumb along my shaft.

"Oliver," I whispered. "Oh my God, this feels great, I am so turned on right now, but we should probably stop now..."

"Mozart? Mahler? Chopin?" he said, not stopping.

The waiter came over to our table with a slice of cheesecake and two forks. Once he noticed the waiter, Oliver quickly removed his hand. That was a close one.

We split the cheesecake, paid the bill (Oliver insisted on paying since he had invited me), thanked the waitstaff and the chef, and headed out. "Thank you, Oliver, this was really nice," I said, holding his arm as we walked out of the restaurant.

"Oh, do you think the night is over already?" He asked. We walked hand in hand toward the car. When we saw that the alley was still abandoned, Oliver grabbed me and pushed me against the wall, pressing his whole body to mine while he kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his back, running my hands down his spine, eventually removing one hand to squeeze the apricot.

Oliver pulled away from the kiss, and as I tried to grab him back, he said, "Come on, I've got more planned. Get in the car."

We drove for a little while, and then Oliver pulled the car over. We were at the berm. Oliver popped the trunk, and pulled out a picnic blanket and a duffel bag. He carried everything, and told me to follow him.

He set up the blanket on a spot facing the pond. He sat on the blanket, and pat the spot next to him so I could sit beside him. I rest my head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “This night has been perfect,” I said.

Oliver took off his blazer, carefully folding it and placing it in the duffel bag. I did the same. He then took off his shoes and socks, so I followed suit. “I want to see you in JUST my boxers,” I said, running my finger down his chest. Oliver nodded, and quickly started undressing. I helped him loosen his tie and fold his clothing.

“Why aren’t you naked yet?” Oliver asked, I immediately started taking my own clothing off, removing everything but the tie (which I had loosened when I removed the shirt).

My boxers were tight on his waist and thighs, but it was so unbelievably erotic seeing him wearing them. Once we were both nearly undressed, I sat on his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist, and began kissing his neck. “The way you were teasing me in the restaurant, was very cruel,” I said, pressing kisses to his collarbone and shoulder blade. “And also very, very hot.”

We were both hard already. I began stroking him, as gently as possible, through the fabric of the boxers. I was going to get back at him for before, make him beg me to let him release. I pressed my body to his, allowing the cool night breeze to hit our bodies as our chests rubbed together. We kissed, and kissed, as I teasingly brushed my fingers against the outline of his cock. Oliver started to wriggle out of the boxers, and I stopped him. “Nope, I still want you to wear them.”

“Elio, please, I want to feel your skin.”

I pressed my lips to his again, violently, hungrily mashing my tongue against his, while my hand still softly gripped his length. When I felt that the boxers were wet, I stopped touching him completely, removing my hand and placing it on the small of his back. He let out a sad moan. “Be patient,” I said, teasingly.

Oliver unzipped the duffel and took out a bottle of lube and the box of condoms. Of course he’d come prepared. I wanted him so badly. I resumed the kiss, releasing soft noises into his mouth. He squeezed some lube on his finger, and started circling my hole. I nodded, and he pressed his finger into me. I arched my hips upward, pressing my body closer to his, as he slowly circled his finger around, sending shivers down my spine. I loved the way Oliver touched me - he was always so gentle at first, making sure he didn’t hurt me. No matter what we were doing, he always focused on making sure that I was enjoying myself, that my pleasure came first. I wanted tonight to be about him. He added a second finger, and eventually, I felt a warm, familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Ooooh,” I moaned loudly, as he began stimulating my prostate. “Oh, fuck, this feels so good,” I shouted. My dick was pressed against his stomach, and I was leaking precum all over his belly.

“You can be as loud as you want tonight. There’s no one for miles,” he said, kissing my neck as he continued to expertly finger me. Suddenly, I had an idea.

“You should fuck me against that tree,” I said, pointing at the nearest tree. He slowly released his fingers, and I moved off of his lap. He pulled the boxers off as I ripped open a condom wrapper for him. I was still wearing only his tie. He slid the condom on, adding more lube, and we stood up. I grabbed his hand, took him over to the tree, and wrapped my arms around him, kissing him.

I turned around, facing the tree and leaning on it for support, as I grabbed Oliver’s cock, helping to guide him. As I adjusted to him and we found a good position, I lifted one leg, resting my foot against his thigh, to allow him to penetrate deeper. He held my leg, his other arm around my middle, his chest pressed against my back, while I held onto the tree, and thrust into me, hard and deep. I moaned as loud as I was able to, and Oliver did the same. A passerby might have thought that wolves were howling at the moon. “Harder,” I begged. I needed to feel him as far inside of me as he could go, and Oliver complied. Oliver soon peaked, screaming my name as he came inside of me.

Once he regained his bearings, he removed the condom, wrapping it in a tissue, and led me back to the blanket. “You should fuck me, here on the blanket,” he said, noting my throbbing erection.

We sat back on the blanket, and I took the bottle of lube, slicking my fingers. He lay on the blanket, angling his hips toward me, giving me better access. I prepped him slowly, until he told me he was ready for me. I made slow, passionate love to him, rocking my hips slowly, burying my head in his sweaty chest. Oliver and I both moaned loudly, and I orgasmed suddenly and forcefully.

After cleaning up, I rest my head on his chest, sighing happily. “This was the best first date I’ve ever had,” I said.

“Me, too. This was really fun.” Oliver kissed my cheek. “We should probably head back to the villa soon, as much as I’d want to stay here all night with you.”

I nodded. He had to be up in the morning to run with his boys, and Anchise would probably use the car in the morning to run errands. “Let’s get dressed and go back, then,” I said. I finally took the tie off as I put my clothing back on. I smirked as Oliver slid my boxers back on.

After we got dressed, we packed our things, went back into the car, and drove back to the villa. I rubbed Oliver’s shoulder as we drove back. It took us twenty years, but we were finally together, and I never wanted anything to change again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy that I just get to write about Oliver and Elio being all fluffy and lovey now. Expect this honeymoon phase to last a while.
> 
> As always, thank you for your nice words!


	41. I Picked the Perfect Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the usual NSFW warning for this chapter :)

_**POV: Oliver, July 5-6, 2007** _

Tonight had been the best date that I’d ever been on. Annella picked the perfect restaurant, and I picked the perfect man. When we got back to the villa, the house was quiet. Everyone had gone to bed, or at least, was in their respective bedrooms (or in the case of Ari, was likely in someone else’s). Elio dragged me to the living room on the way upstairs, where he pushed me down on the couch and started kissing me. “Elio, let’s go to our room, my sons or your parents could see us here,” I said.

“Fine, but you’re no fun,” he said, sticking his tongue out at me.

He ran upstairs, racing me up the stairs. Once we were both in the bedroom, Elio closed the door and pushed me against it, pressing his body firmly to mine as he kissed me, standing where he had once climbed me like a tree. He started tearing my clothing off, this time less careful about folding everything neatly, letting the pieces stay wherever they landed. I was glad I had already taken my tie off, because in this state, Elio may have accidentally choked me while trying to pull it off. I was a little more delicate, loosening his tie before slipping it over his head.

Soon, Elio was naked and I was standing only in the boxers. He grabbed me, pushed me on the bed and mounted me. "You're not sick of me yet?" I asked, as he buried his face in my neck.

"Never. I need you so badly, I'll never get enough of you," he said, resuming his kissing and nibbling.

I felt the same way. We'd only been back together for a few days, and intimate for one (and what a day it'd been), but I knew that what we had, what we were feeling, would never change. Maybe one day our bodies might stop complying with our insatiable need for each other, but our hearts were in it for good.

Elio started kissing down my body, stopping at my crotch. He started kissing me through the fabric of his boxers, teasing me gently. Then, he took me in his mouth, with the boxers still on, allowing his hot breath to linger and tease me. He took his time, slowly stroking me and teasing me, driving me mad.

He slid the boxers down, but not all the way, placing kisses on my newly exposed hip bones. He kept at this, slowly pulling the boxers a little further, licking, biting and kissing what he exposed.

After what felt like a slow eternity, he finally pulled the boxers off, tossing them to the side of the bed. Elio then proceeded to give me what was one of the longest, most tender, most magnificent blow jobs I'd ever received. He was incredibly attentive, leaving no part of my cock and sac untouched, un-licked, or un-sucked. Midway through, he began to prep me, grabbing the lube, spreading my legs and slowly entering me with his finger while he continued to expertly suck (and I do mean expertly. He was working some magic with his lips and tongue).

"Elio," I moaned, enjoying every second of it. I ran my fingers through his curls, breathing slowly and steadily. After I climaxed, he slowly released his fingers, grabbed a condom, and added more lube. “Oh my… that was… mind-blowingly good,” I said.

“I’ve been dying to do that all night, since I saw that you were wearing my boxers. Wear my underwear again, and I’ll definitely do that for you whenever you want me to,” Elio said, smiling. He grabbed a pillow and put it on the opposite side of the bed. "Lay on the edge of the bed," he said, placing the pillow under the small of my back. Elio stood up in front of the bed, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he entered me.

As he thrust, he raised my legs higher, placing them on his shoulders, changing the angle. I'd never received in this position before, but it felt incredible.

Afterward, we lay side by side in bed, Elio's head on my shoulder. He ran his fingers through my chest hair. "I need to send Ari and Vic a thank you present for bringing you back to me," he said.

"Your mother already promised to spoil them, it doesn't need to come from you, too," I said.

He laughed. "My mother is good at that, just look at me."

I looked him up and down. "I think I've looked at you plenty, I'll never get sick of looking at you."

"Oliver... What are we going to do at the end of the summer? When we both go home?"

"We'll figure it out. I know we can make long distance work, and we'll have summers together." I held him tight, never wanting to let go.

"I don't have any classes on Fridays this semester, I can come up to you every Thursday night. Amtrak and I will become intimately acquainted."

I kissed the top of his head and said, "I know we'll make it work. I don't want to lose you or leave you again. We've got more than a month together here now, we'll enjoy ourselves and figure out the details when we leave."

"You know, I've never actually seen where you live. Aside from Vic's Bar Mitzvah and when I went to your lecture, when I stayed at a hotel both times, we've only ever seen each other where I live," Elio noted.

"We’ve always been on your home turf, haven’t we. Well, I'm excited for you to see my house, then. It's nothing special, but we've made a nice home there.”

I held his hand, rubbing my thumb over his wrist and palm. We talked, kissed, and snuggled, until we fell asleep, limbs and bodies entwined.

* * *

The next morning, after my run, I took Ari aside before I went back to my room. “How are things going with Jasmine?” I asked.

“Really good, we fooled around again last night. I… I really enjoy hand jobs, she’s really good at that,” he said, smirking.

“Whoa, Ari, I appreciate that you tell me about your sex life, but there’s a line between telling me that you’re sexually active and giving me particular details of your partner's skill levels. You should respect her privacy. I hope you don’t talk like this with your friends at home,” I said.

Ari turned red. “I… I just thought you wanted to know details of my life, you made me buy condoms yesterday…”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable talking to me, and I still want you to, but just, be mindful how you speak about a partner. You want to be respectful,” I said. “I am happy that you and Jasmine are enjoying yourselves, though.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Ari said, hiding his face.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to be sorry, you’re seventeen, you’re still learning.”

Ari scratched his head. “How was your date last night?”

I grinned, worried that I was starting to blush. “It was really nice, we had a really great, fancy dinner.”

* * *

When I got back to the room, Elio and I made love in the shower before we got dressed and went down for breakfast. I dug through my drawers for shorts and a t-shirt, and as we went downstairs, hand in hand, I noticed that Elio was wearing the Bruins shirt I had been wearing to bed the previous night. If that’s not a way to announce to everyone that we’re sleeping together, I don’t know what is. It was too much of a turn on to really care that much.

We sat next to each other at breakfast, and Elio smirked deviously as he grabbed me a soft-boiled egg and opened it for me. Annella looked at Elio’s shirt, looked at me, and then at Elio again. I thought that they were having a silent conversation about me.

Jasmine arrived at the table, a book in hand, looking less tired than she did yesterday. She immediately began speaking to Sammy about the paper they were editing today. I was glad that my son wasn’t too much of a distraction, and that she was still able to do her work.

Ari and Vic were last to the table, as always. They were racing each other to the table, and when Vic went to sit down, Ari pulled the chair out from under him, and Vic fell on the floor. “Boys, behave!” I said.

“Sorry, Dad, sorry Vic, I was just playing around...” Ari said, taking a seat next to Jasmine. Vic sat on the other side of Ari.

“Did you have fun last night?” Vic asked, scarfing down Nutella on a spoon. At this point, he didn’t even bother spreading it on toast.

“We did, it was a very nice date,” Elio said, smiling at Vic, taking my hand and squeezing it. “Your father is the best.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you liked hockey, Elio! I’m surprised you like the Bruins and not the Devils, though!” Vic said. Ari looked at Jasmine, who was giggling, and he smacked Vic on the shoulder. “Hey, what did you do that for?”

“Actually, in Princeton, no one can agree on a team. It’s about evenly split among the Devils, the Flyers and the Rangers,” Elio said. “Central Jersey is strange that way. We also get both the Philadelphia and New York local channels on TV.”

We spent the rest of breakfast talking about the differences in local television as we ate. “One of the weirdest things about moving to New York for college was that _Jeopardy!_ was on at 7 and not 7:30. _Wheel of Fortune_ is supposed to be on before _Jeopardy!_ ”

“Wait, _Jeopardy!_ is on at 7 in New York? That’s so weird,” Ari said. “It’s like an alternate dimension.”

“It’s also on at 7 on the Philadelphia channel, and was always on at 7 when I was at Yale,” Elio said with a shrug.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Elio and I were working in our office. We kept playing footsie under the table. I was typing away on my laptop when an email popped in from Howie.

To: Oliver Morgenstern <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
From: Howard Levinson <xxxxxxx@gmail.com>  
Subject: Re: Greetings from Italy  
Sent: Friday, July 6, 2007

Ollie,

How are you doing? Haven't heard from you in a couple of weeks since you sent the last email.

I was wondering how it was going with your Italian lover boy? Did you stop being a chicken and finally go for it?

Let me know what happened! I'm dying here!

-Howie

 

"Hey, Elio, do you mind if I video chat with a friend back home?" I asked, hoping I wasn't interrupting anything.

"Go ahead, I just keep staring at an empty page anyway," Elio replied.

I looked to see if Howie was online, and I clicked the button to video chat him.

"Hey, Ollie! Good to see you! How's it going?"

Across the table, Elio mouthed, "Ollie!?!". Off of the screen, I bat my hand at Elio, indicating I'd tell him who Howie was later.

"I'm good, everything is good. How's Boston?"

"Same as always. I'm teaching a summer course at Brandeis and trying to get in as many Sox games as I can this season," Howie said. "But, more importantly, is there any news on the Elio front?"

Elio perked up when he heard his name, and raised his eyebrow at me.

"Funny you should ask that." I motioned for Elio to come over to my side of the table. "Howie, this is Elio. Elio, this is Howie, we've been friends since grad school. Howie's a professor at Brandeis."

"Hi, Howie, it's nice to meet you."

Howie gave me a confused look, like he was unsure what to ask. I gave Elio a kiss on the cheek, and he rest his chin affectionately on my shoulder as he leaned over me to look at the computer.

"So... I take it..." Howie started to say.

"Yep! Elio and I are together, finally. Just don't tell anyone yet, I want to tell people about him on my own time, when I'm there in person." Elio kissed my forehead and walked back around the table, to his computer.

"I'm so happy that things worked out for you!" he said. "He's a real looker!" Elio stuck his tongue out, and went back to typing on his computer.

Howie and I chatted a bit more, before he left to go have breakfast and head to Waltham.

Elio and I worked for another hour or so. He rest his foot on top of mine, smirking at me every so often.

“I might need to start working in the bedroom, I’m never going to get work done like this, and I need to finish writing my book this summer,” I said.

“Fine, I’ll stop for now,” Elio said. “If I’m good now, do you promise I get to be naughty later?”

I laughed. I liked how Elio could change from studious to seductive that quickly. “I promise. Let’s get some work done now, so we can do each other later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this, I had to remind myself that in the timeline of the story, they'd only actually been sleeping together for 24 hours. It's been a very eventful day for Oliver and Elio :)
> 
> Your kind words have all been so lovely - thank you for your support.


	42. The Babysitters

_**POV: Ari, July 7, 2007** _

I’d spent the past three nights sleeping in Jasmine’s bed. Each night, we’d fool around for hours, alternating between making out and getting each other off. She was still only comfortable with us using our hands, which was fine with me. One thing I thought was strange was that she never took off her top or her underwear, and always slid my hand inside them instead. I wanted to tell her that it would be much easier for me to finger her if she just took her underwear off, but I didn’t want to pressure her into doing anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

After lunch, Vic went into town with Annella to buy new gardening supplies (he had taken to gardening with her some mornings after his piano lessons), and Jasmine and I decided to go for a swim. We were talking about her family, the classics classes that she’s taken at Barnard and Columbia, and what I should write about in my personal statement so that I could get into Columbia.

Eventually, the talking turned to kissing. Jasmine wrapped her legs around me underwater, while her arms were tangled in my hair, She pushed me against the edge of the pool, so I leaned against the cement to steady myself and keep us both afloat. Suddenly, I heard screaming in my ear. “Kissy! Kissy! Jasmine and Ari are kissing like Oncle Elly and Oliver!”

Jasmine let go of me, and Noemie was standing at the edge of the pool, her shoes in her hand, in a frilly two piece bathing suit, waving at us. “Bonjour Jasmine! Allo Ari!” she said, gripping my arm and hugging it.

Marzia started running into the backyard, panting heavily and carrying a large pink backpack. “Sorry, I was looking for Annella or Elio. Are either of them home? I was hoping one of them could babysit Noemie for a few hours. Thierry is back from Paris, and my parents are out of the house, and… well… I just wanted someone to watch her for a while…”

“Mrs. P went into town with Vic, I’m not sure when they’re going to be back. No idea where Elio or my dad are, but they’re probably together… you may not want to go looking for them, unless you want to find a sock on the door.”

"Ari!" Jasmine said, playfully punching my arm.

“Oh!” Marzia exclaimed excitedly. “Are they… yay! I will definitely leave them alone.”

“Do you want us to watch her? I used to babysit all the time in high school,” Jasmine offered.

Before I could object, Noemie wrapped her arms around my neck and legs around my torso and propelled herself into the pool. “Whee!” she said, unintentionally splashing water at me as she kicked, still holding onto my neck.

“Are you sure you do not mind? You probably have better things to do today,” Marzia said, a bit frazzled.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, not really wanting to watch Noemie, but wanting to impress Jasmine.

“We’ve got her. We’re here all day, we were just going to swim and read. We’ve already done our work for the day with Professor Perlman. Go spend time with your husband,” Jasmine said.

“Jasmine, thank you so much, you are a lifesaver!” Marzia put the backpack on a chair. “I packed a backpack with some of her things. It has her teddy bear, a few toys, some snacks, and a couple of changes of clothes for when she’s done swimming and when she inevitably gets dirty. She just took her nap, so she’ll be awake for a while.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” Jasmine said with a smile.

I wasn’t so sure about this, but if Jasmine wanted to do this, I was in.

Marzia bent down and kissed the top of Noemie’s head, saying something to her in French.

“Au revoir, maman!” Noemie shouted, trying to splash water at her mother. "I'm going to play with Ari and Jasmine now."

“This is not how I saw our day playing out,” I said to Jasmine. I grabbed Noemie’s legs, holding her upright and propping her on my shoulders. I dipped us both underwater quickly (keeping her head above water), and then shot back up.

“Again!” she shouted, as she held onto my head. She made me do this another 5 or 6 times, before I looked for a pool float and sat her on it.

Noemie kicked the float around, bouncing around the pool. We swam for a while, trying to keep Noemie occupied. She didn't understand everything we said to her in English, but I was impressed by how much she knew in French, Italian, and English. She was like a little Elio in this regard. 

Vic came back about a half hour after Marzia left. "Good you're home, Mrs. P. can look after Noemie now," I said.

"Ari, we promised Marzia we'd watch her, we can't just pawn her off on Annella," Jasmine said.

"Oh, she just dropped me off. She went to a friend's to play cards. Mrs. Perlman was super nice, though, she bought me new clarinet reeds and some gelato!" 

"Nerd!" I shouted.

"Nerd! Nerd!" Noemie parroted.

Jasmine gave me a dirty look. "I'm sorry Vic, you aren't a nerd, you have the right level of excitement over a bunch of wooden sticks," I said.

"Ari! Pick me up!" Noemie said. I put her back on my shoulders, and she began screaming and cheering.

Vic tossed us an inflatable beach towel, which Jasmine and Noemie threw back and forth while I kept her supported on my shoulders.

Vic went inside to grab his camera, and took pictures of us in the pool. Noemie hammed it up for the camera, smiling cheesily. In one picture, Vic instructed Jasmine and Noemie to each kiss me, Noemie bending over my head to kiss my forehead, and Jasmine kissing my cheek.

Eventually, Dad and Elio came down to the pool, shirtless, towels over their shoulders, holding hands. They each held a book, and they both had their sunglasses on the waistband of their swimsuits.

"Hi Dad! Hey Elio! " Vic said, smiling. 

"Oncle Elly!" Noemie screamed, squirming when she saw him. She wriggled off of my shoulders and onto the ground, out of the pool, so she could run into Elio's arms.

"Hi Noemie," he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Where is your mother? Is she here?" 

"We're watching her this afternoon. Marzia is... tending to her husband while her parents are out of the house. She must have been pretty desperate to leave a small child in my care," I said. "Though Jasmine is really good with her." 

"Don't put yourself down, you've been great with her!" Jasmine said. 

"Oliver! Are you going to kiss Oncle Elly?" Noemie asked my dad. How did she know about that?

Elio kissed Dad on the cheek, nuzzling him. Gross.

"If Oncle Elly kisses Oliver, does that mean you are Oncle Oliver?" Noemie asked. "Aunt Brigitte kisses Oncle Florian." A three year old's logic makes sense.

"I think that's up to your parents to decide, Noemie," Dad said.

"Oncle Elly et Encle Olly!" Noemie shouted, giggling at her silly wordplay. She leaped back into the pool, but fortunately, I caught her before she dipped underwater. I was not letting this girl drown on my watch.

Vic walked around the backyard, taking more pictures of us in the pool.

Dad posed for a picture, and then said to Elio, "I wonder if I should get Vic a real camera instead of that cheap digital one, he's growing to love photography."

"I don't think that's really the case," I said. "He just likes getting comments on his pictures."

Dad and Elio sat side by side in reclining chairs, playing with each other’s hands while they read their respective books. Occasionally, one would grab the other's hand and kiss it. If this wasn’t my dad, I would have thought it was romantic and sweet, but it **was** my dad, so I was obligated to think it was kind of cloying.

“Your dad and Elio are so adorable together, they seem so happy,” Jasmine whispered to me.

“I don’t think I’ve EVER seen him this happy before,” I said.

Noemie then announced that she was done swimming and wanted to take a bath. “Why don’t you just change out of your bikini and into your clothes?” I asked.

“No, have to take a bath after swimming. Maman says that’s the rule,” she said.

“Jasmine, I think this one’s on you,” I said, laughing.

Jasmine grabbed Noemie’s backpack, and took her by the hand, escorting her back into the house.

I took the opportunity to go shower and change myself. As I was heading inside, I told Vic that he should probably go inside, too, and let Dad and Elio have some time alone, since they didn’t realize we would all be at the pool when they came outside.

* * *

A half hour later, Jasmine was sitting in the living room with Noemie, attempting to corral her thick hair into something resembling a ponytail. She wound up with two lumpy buns, not dissimilar to the Princess Leia buns Jasmine said she wore for Halloween as a kid. Vic sat on the couch giggling, as Noemie was squirming on Jasmine’s lap.

Noemie jumped out of Jasmine’s lap and started running circles around the coffee table. This girl was an endless bundle of energy. If buying condoms with your father wasn’t effective enough, dealing with her for a few hours was definitely a good form of birth control.

I sat down on the couch next to Jasmine, and Vic decided to play something for us on the piano. Mafalda came in and brought some milk and cookies, which she had baked specifically for Noemie. The toddler then climbed up on the couch and curled up on my lap, excited to listen to Vic play. Noemie clapped her hands along with what he was playing. 

We then opened the backpack and took out some of her toys, including a bag of Legos. Yes! Vic and I loved Legos when we were kids. We dumped them out on the couch, and started building a tower. Between swimming, listening to boring classical music, and trying to engineer a structurally sound Lego tower, we had wiped Noemie out.

She eventually fell asleep with her head on my lap. Jasmine gathered the Legos and put them back in the bag.

“What do I do?” I asked, apprehensively patting her head.

“I think you just let her sleep, if you move she might wake up, and then she’ll be running around again,” Vic said.

“I guess this is where I live now,” I jokingly said, reclining on the couch. I moved Noemie into a more comfortable position. She gripped onto my arm like a stuffed animal, and started snoring. Vic took his camera out of his pocket and took a picture of us. “Are you going to use this as blackmail?” I asked.

“Oh, come on, this is really sweet,” Jasmine said.

Jasmine, Vic and I chatted quietly, until Dad and Elio came into the room, laughing about something. “Shh!” I said, pointing at the sleeping toddler on my lap.

“That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Dad said, resting his head on Elio’s shoulder.

Elio came over to me, gently scooped Noemie up in his arms, and began to carry her. “I’ll take her to my room and let her sleep in my bed, you two have watched her for long enough. I’ll watch her until Marzia comes back for her.” He carried Noemie up the stairs, Dad following close behind. Vic left us alone, as he scurried off to the attic to make use of his new reeds.

I slouched on the couch once they were all upstairs. “That was exhausting!” I said, resting my head against Jasmine. “How does anyone handle having a child if they’re like that?”

“You were so good with her, though,” she said, pushing my hair out of my eyes. “It was actually kind of a turn on,” she added, with a smile.

“Oh? Should I volunteer to babysit more often?” I asked, resting my hand under her chin.

“Don’t jump the gun,” she said, laughing. “But you were great with Noemie today. That was tiring, but fun.”

I leaned down, and kissed her softly. We proceeded to make out on the couch until we heard Annella get home. We sat up, straightened our clothing, and quickly turned on the television. “We’ll do more of that tonight,” Jasmine whispered, resting her hand on my upper thigh for the briefest of moments. Tonight couldn't come quickly enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick cute chapter to tide everyone over, and give Oliver and Elio a bit of a break from all of the sexing.
> 
> I'm a bit behind on writing, and I'm away for a few days starting tomorrow (making the trip we were supposed to do over labor day weekend :D), so I think I'll be able to post a chapter tomorrow, but after that, it might be a few days. I'll update on tumblr if I won't be able to get anything uploaded here by Monday.
> 
> I went through many iterations of the title for this chapter, mostly referencing The Baby-Sitters Club and other pop culture ephemera.  
> Tossed names:  
> -Don't Tell Dad the Babysitter's Ari  
> -Jasmine's Great Idea (referencing Kristy's Great Idea)  
> -Ari's a Regular Logan Bruno (and I realized that he kind of looks like the way Logan was described in the books? tall, blond, blue eyes)  
> -Ari Ventures in Babysitting
> 
> I'll see myself out now...


	43. Utterly, Completely, Direly in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this one is NSFW...

_**POV: Elio, July 9, 2007** _

I don't know why I let Oliver convince me to join him on their morning run today. We made love when his alarm went off, and I would have agreed to anything in my sleepy post-coital bliss.

I could barely keep up with Oliver when I was seventeen. At thirty-seven, I was huffing after five minutes. We ran to the lake and back. I stayed at my slower pace, keeping Vic company. The running had been serving him well. Despite the copious amounts of gelato and Mafalda's amazing but not entirely healthy cooking (though she'd started serving foods with less salt and more fiber for my father), Vic was noticeably starting to lose weight.

"Come on, slowpokes," Ari shouted, as Vic and I trudged along.

Vic was able to pick up the pace and catch up with his father and brother. I, on the other hand, could barely stand upright. "I'll meet you at the villa," I said between labored breaths, stopping to bend over and gasp for air.

"Boys, I'll see you at breakfast, I'll walk back with Elio," Oliver said. Ari zoomed off, Vic slowly following behind.

Oliver placed his arm around me, supporting me upright. "How do you do this every day?" I asked him. "This is pure torture."

"You get used to it. Do you do any exercise? How do you stay so thin?" Oliver asked.

"Does contorting into yoga positions in the bedroom with you count?" I asked, smirking.

He squeezed my shoulder and chuckled. "You should join us in the mornings from now on. We'll take it easy. I want to make sure we keep healthy so we can torture each other for a long time."

"Can't we just have lots of acrobatic sex?" I said jokingly.

"We can try that when we get back, but at the risk of sounding like nagging parent, you need to start exercising. My father had a heart attack in his forties, and died of one in his fifties, and I want to make sure we have many healthy and happy decades together to make up for the two we lost."

I stopped walking for a moment, grabbed Oliver by the waist and kissed him gently. "Fine, I'll start running with you. Tomorrow. But it's going to be more of a jog than a run."

* * *

After some lovely hanky panky in the shower (Oliver rewarded me for my attempted effort at running), and a delicious breakfast, I sat down for the morning piano and composing lesson with Vic.

Vic was so talented at piano, and he was really taking to composing. Today, he breezed through a Rachmaninoff piano concerto that I occasionally found difficult to play. I was thinking about organizing a small concert in town where he could perform in a larger venue than my parents’ living room. I would need to figure out the logistics of that soon.

We moved outside for the composing and transcription portion of the lesson. As we worked, Vic leaned his head on his arm, turned to me, and asked suddenly, “Are you going to move to Boston?”

I scratched my head. “I don’t know, Vic. Your Dad and I have only been together for a week, I think we’re going to see what happens for the rest of the summer and play it by ear after that. The plan right now is that I’ll take the train up and visit most weekends.”

“Well, I really like having you around, I wouldn’t mind if you moved in with us. I think it would make Dad happy,” he said, smiling. “I hope you two get married one day.”

This kid was so incredibly sweet. What was the acceptable protocol here? Was I allowed to hug him? I wanted to give him a hug. As I choked back tears, I said, “Thank you, Vic, that’s really sweet.”

Vic nodded, putting down his pencil. “I think my mom would have really liked you. She would have been happy that Dad found someone who makes him truly happy.”

“You know that I’m not trying to replace her, in your life or your dad’s life, right?”

“I know, Elio. I think Dad will always love her, but she’s been gone for a while, and he loves you now. He probably always has,” Vic said. In this moment, his ability to see through emotion and cut right to the chase, he reminded me so much of Vimini.

Did Oliver tell the boys that he loves me? We’d never actually said it to each other, not that we didn’t feel it. I’d been in love with him since I was seventeen. Was it too late to actually say it to each other? Did we need to? That’s the funny thing about words - they hold so much meaning, so much power, yet they can also be completely meaningless. Words can go unsaid and still be understood. But one thing was for certain, whether or not I said it out loud. I was utterly, completely, direly in love with Oliver Morgenstern, and I was going to tell him.

* * *

Oliver and I decided to take a break from working on our laptops before lunch. I loved watching him work when he didn’t know I was looking. When he was stuck on something, he would bite his lip in frustration and play with the bridge of his reading glasses, and when he was on a roll with his writing, he had such a happy yet devious smirk.

We went into the living room and sat down on the couch to read. He was editing a chapter of his manuscript by hand, and I was reading a novel. I rest my head on his lap, curled up into him while I read on my side, and he held the pages with his left hand, and idly played with my hair or ran his fingers down my arm when he wasn’t highlighting or editing something with his right. It was a picture of domestic bliss.

He was furiously scribbling on the pages, muttering to himself. “Why did I use a comma here instead of a semi-colon?” Oliver grumbled. He was so cute when he was nitpicking himself like this. How was I supposed to pay attention to my book?

“Hey Oliver?” I said, looking up at him from his lap.

“Yeah, Elio?” he said, still scribbling something onto his typed pages.

“I love you.”

He put his pages down on the cushion beside him, looked down at me, and grinned. “I love you, too,” he said, gently running his thumb along my chin.

I sat up, pressed my forehead to his, and kissed him softly. “I just wanted to say it out loud, putting that out into the universe.” He started kissing me deeper, and I returned the kiss passionately. We sat on the couch, kissing, laughing, and holding hands, until Mafalda rang the bell for lunch.

* * *

After lunch, Marzia and Thierry came over without Noemie, who was with Marzia's parents. My mother had invited them over for dinner, along with a few other guests, so Marzia figured she’d come over early and spend time with us.

The three kids had ridden their bikes into town, probably to get gelato, so Oliver and I took advantage of the free swimming pool to take a swim. Marzia and Thierry also brought their swimsuits.

Oliver stood behind me in the pool, had his arms wrapped around my chest, and was playfully kissing my neck.

“So, you two are FINALLY back together,” Marzia said, in English for Oliver’s benefit.

I nodded, as Oliver continued kissing my neck and shoulder.

“It’s about damned time! It only took you twenty years,” she said, smirking. Oliver still stood behind me, with his arms wrapped around me, but now he stood upright and rest his chin on top of my head. I was not short by any stretch of the imagination, but I loved how small and protected he made me feel. When his arms were wrapped around me, and his whole body just overtook mine, I felt so safe, so warm, so comfortable. I placed my hands on top of his, and squeezed them.

“Get a room, you two,” Thierry said jokingly, throwing the inflatable beach ball at us.

“Hey, you’re the one who came over early, we could have been alone in the pool right now,” I replied.

Thierry sat at the edge of the pool, kicking his feet in the water, while Marzia stood in the pool next to him, keeping a glass of wine above the water. “It’s nice to actually meet you and talk to you, Oliver,” Thierry said. “Elio has talked about you for years, I was beginning to think you were imaginary, but I’m glad you are everything he said you were.”

Oliver squeezed me tight. “I assume he’s only said bad things?”

“Big, mean, smelly, bad breath, tiny coc…” Oliver picked me up and dunked me underwater before I could continue. When I came up for air, I playfully jumped onto his back.

I wrapped my arms around Oliver’s neck and floated behind him. “How was your afternoon the other day, Marzia? Did you two enjoy your alone time?” Oliver asked.

Marzia leaned on Thierry’s thigh, placing her wine-free hand on his arm. “It was wonderful to have a house to ourselves for a few hours. No screaming toddler, no nosy parents. We have not been able to take things slowly and just enjoy ourselves in such a long time - usually we have to rush to fit things in when Noemie is napping.”

Thierry affectionately squeezed Marzia’s shoulder, and said, “Thank your son for us, he and Jasmine took good care of her. All Noemie is talking about now is Ari. Ari this and Ari that. 'I wish Jasmine wasn't kissing Ari so he could kiss me.' She wants him to babysit her every day.”

Oliver started laughing. “I’m not so sure he’d be thrilled to hear that, he was exhausted all day yesterday. He told me that he wants to wait until he’s older and rich and can pay for nannies before he has a child.”

Marzia chuckled. “That might be the right decision. She is just so much work.”

"They're worth it, though. My boys are wonderful. It doesn't get any easier as they get older," Oliver said. "I imagine with girls, it's even worse."

"Yeah, the one girl is enough for us. We are done having kids," Thierry said. "My sister's got three, I cannot even imagine us having a second. We love Noemie, but no more."

After we got out of the pool, Oliver and I lay side by side on our towels on the grass, not an inch separating us. Marzia and Thierry sat on beach chairs not too far away. We all sat in happy silence, enjoying the summer heat.

I held Oliver's hand tightly, so happy that we could be loving and affectionate in front of others. I never wanted to let go.

* * *

 We went upstairs to shower and change before dinner, while Marzia and Thierry sat and chatted with my parents. When we got to our bedroom Oliver slammed the bedroom door shut. He immediately grabbed me and kissed me deeply. "I love you so much, Elio," he said, throwing me on the bed. "I will never get sick of saying that. I, Oliver Morgenstern, am madly in love with you, Elio Perlman. Just putting that out into the universe."

"I love you," I repeated between kisses.

Oliver pulled my swimsuit off. "What are you doing? As much as I'd like to, Marzia and Thierry are waiting for us downstairs."

He pulled off his own trunks and said, "Didn't they leave their toddler in the care of my seventeen year old son so they could go home and fuck for a few hours? They can wait for us," Oliver said, nuzzling into my neck.

"You have a point there... Oh, right there, don't stop," I said, as he nipped into a piece of skin on my neck that sent shivers down my spine.

After some very excellent foreplay, Oliver proceeded to very tenderly, very romantically, make love to me, as I wrapped my arms around him, caressing his back, needing to feel his skin. I wouldn't even call this making love, it transcended making love, transcended fucking. We were two men, two bodies, two souls, forever entwined as one.

As he slowly thrust inside of me, he tugged my cock to the same rhythm. Before Oliver climaxed, I ejaculated over his hand and on both of our stomachs. I was too lost in the emotion of the moment to really care - in any case, we were showering soon. He wiped his hand on my chest, and thrust harder, peaking quickly. After he pulled out of me, he slowly, methodically began licking my stomach and chest, devouring every last piece of evidence. While he licked my torso, I said, “I love you so much, Oliver. With every fiber of my being.” His tongue and mouth were too busy to respond, but he grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly.

After cuddling for a few minutes, we decided that we shouldn’t hold Marzia and Thierry up for too much longer, and took a brief shower together, before getting dressed and heading back down.

Marzia and Thierry were sitting at the dinner table with my parents while my mother smoked a cigarette (while I got my father to quit, she refused, said it was the French in her). “That must have been some shower,” Marzia said, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squee! Not that they haven't always felt it, but the boys finally said, "I love you!"
> 
> Hopefully that tides you all over this weekend until I can get the next chapter posted :)
> 
> The first "I love you" scene was inspired by the scene on Brooklyn Nine Nine when Jake realizes he wants to propose to Amy when they're in bed, and she finds a mistake in the crossword puzzle.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued kind words :)


	44. The Dinner Party, Part One

_**POV: Oliver, July 9, 2007** _

Mafalda brought us a bottle of wine while we waited for the rest of the dinner guests. Tonight, we’d be joined by Marzia and Thierry, who were already here, as well as Chiara and Fabrizio, Chiara’s brother Paolo and his wife Lucia, and their children Rocco and Elena. Vic was sitting next to me at the table (he was always one to join the adults), looking visibly nervous - he hadn’t seen Elena since they had made out at that party the previous week. “What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?” he whispered to me.

“She’ll want to talk to you, but if she doesn’t, then it’s her loss, because you are a catch,” I said.

Marzia overheard and chimed in. “Vic, you are wonderful, and if Elena cannot see that, she is crazy.”

Vic nodded, and sipped his apricot juice.

Elio sat to my other side, chatting with his mother and Thierry in French. I could only pick out select words here and there, but listening to him speak French was such a turn on. I sometimes thought that Elio became a different person when he spoke a different language - he was alluring, secretive, and I wanted to get to know those Elios as well as I knew my English-speaking Elio. My Elio. He was mine, and it felt so freeing to be able to tell it to the world.

I’d been incredibly happy since we got back together, but after we professed our love this afternoon, I felt like I was floating. We both knew that we loved one another, but saying it aloud for the first time gave us a new intimacy that we’d never even experienced before. I gently rest my hand on Elio’s shoulder blade while he spoke, running my thumb along the curls at the nape of his neck. Annella made eye contact with me and smiled knowingly as I did this. Was it strange for them to see us together, after all of these years?

Chiara and her family soon arrived, managing to fit six people in one small car. A teenage girl, whom I assume was Elena, shyly walked over to the table and said, “Hi Vic!”

“Hi Elena! This is my Dad, I think you know everyone else already,” Vic said.

“Oliver, nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand. She politely shook it. Her brother came over to the table soon after.

“Good to see you, Dr. Morgenstern! Where are Ari and Jasmine?” Rocco asked.

“Please, call me Oliver, no need for formality,” I said. “I think they’re in Sammy’s office?”

Rocco tugged at his sister’s collar and said, “C’mon, let’s go find Ari and Jasmine. Are you coming with us, Vic?” Elena and Vic scampered off after Rocco. Vic did not take his eyes off of Elena, and that poor boy was going to have his heart broken at the end of the summer.

Chiara came over to me and gave me a warm hug. “Oliver! It’s so nice to see you! You look fantastic!”

I smiled at her - she still looked the same, short curly hair, scantily clad slim body. “You haven’t aged a day!” I said.

Her boyfriend Fabrizio, had long brown hair and a 5-o’clock shadow that rivaled my own. We shook hands and he sat across from me, and her brother Paolo and his wife Lucia, sat at the other end of the table.

Anchise brought over a second folding table and chairs to accommodate the extra guests for when the kids came back outside.

We all fell into a quick banter, thankfully mostly in English, since I had a hard time keeping up with their Italian, and was hopeless at French. Marzia and Thierry told us some entertaining stories about the mischief that Noemie got herself into, and Annella and Sammy rivaled with stories of young Elio that I’d never heard before.

In tandem, they told us about how when he was a toddler, he almost set the whole villa on fire. During Chanukah, after they had lit the menorah and let the candles burn out, Elio decided he wanted more latkes, so he snuck into the kitchen, found a chair, climbed onto the table, and accidentally knocked over the menorah onto the antique wooden table in the process. Fortunately, Mafalda was nearby and was able to extinguish the flames, but not before half of the table had gotten singed. Elio just stood on the chair, latkes in hand, watching the fire burn. “And that’s why the dining room table has burn marks on one side,” Annella said.

“What? I really wanted some latkes, I wasn’t going to let some fire get in the way,” Elio said. God, he was so adorable. I ruffled his hair a bit, laughing at the story.

Thierry laughed and told us a recent Noemie story. “A few months ago, I bought a chocolate cake for Marzia’s birthday, which I stupidly bought with Noemie so she knew about it. I hid it on top of the fridge, and when no one was in the kitchen, she also moved a chair to climb on top of the fridge, took down the cake, and proceeded to eat most of it. But she only wanted the inside, not the frosting on the outside, so she used her fingers to make a small hole on one side and proceeded to eat almost the entire cake, leaving only the shell.”

“She’s always covered in chocolate, so we thought nothing of seeing her hands and face covered in it, but the next day, when Thierry took the cake down and went to cut into it, the entire cake collapsed in on itself. Noemie just shrugged, pretending like she had no idea that most of the cake had been eaten. I was laughing too hard to care all that much, but Thierry was fuming,” Marzia added.

“You think Noemie is bad now? You should have seen what Chiara was like as a small child,” Paolo said.

"I knew her as a teenager, so I can only imagine,” I said in jest.

After my second glass of wine, I excused myself to go use the restroom. I heard the piano, so I poked my head into the living room, and I saw Vic playing for a very captivated Elena. She stood beside him as he played, gripping her hands over her heart, smiling warmly. Maybe she did like him.

I returned to the table, and we all chatted some more. It was already a lovely evening - I was really enjoying getting to know Marzia better, and Chiara, her brother, and their partners, were all lovely. Maybe it was the wine, but I found it heartwarming how they were all so accepting of Elio and myself together as a couple. No one seemed uncomfortable when we held hands or touched each other, and Marzia and Chiara both cooed when Elio kissed me when I got back to the table. Sammy and Annella just seemed happy that their son was happy.

Mafalda eventually rang the dinner bell, and the kids all took their seats at the table. Vic and Elena were awkwardly holding hands. Ari and Rocco immediately grabbed pieces of bread and poured themselves olive oil to dip the bread in. “Oh my god, I always forget that the Perlman’s housekeeper is the best cook on the planet,” Rocco said, stuffing his face.

“Rocco, manners!” Lucia yelled at him.

“Sorry, mamma,” he said, giggling.

Vic and Elena were also giggling, and grabbed at the bowl of olives on the table, munching on them. I immediately realized what was going on. With the exception of Jasmine, who remained poised as ever as she sipped a glass of wine, the kids were all high. There were all of the telltale signs - the munchies, the giggling, the bloodshot eyes. I didn’t think that Vic had ever smoked before, and we were going to need to talk about this. I wasn’t really okay with Ari smoking pot until he was in high school. I still didn’t love it, but I knew he was going to do it, so Deb and I always figured that if he knew we were fine with it, he would only smoke on occasion, and would never really progress into anything harder.

“Hey, Vic, can you help me with something in the kitchen for a second?” I said.

“Sure, Dad!” Vic replied, following me into the house. Before we got to the kitchen, I stopped him in the hallway.

“Vic… have you been smoking?” I asked, pulling him closer, looking into his bloodshot eyes.

“NO! I haven’t! I swear!” he said. Vic had a tell when he lied, which wasn’t that often. He blinked a lot and would pick at his fingernails. He wasn’t doing either.

“What are you kids up to, then? Have you been drinking?”

“No, Dad,” Vic said, biting his lip and stifling a giggle. “Other than a few sips of wine here, I haven’t had anything to drink since my Bar Mitzvah!”

“Vic, tell me what’s going on, please?” I asked. Maybe they had an edible? “Did you take or eat anything?”

He scrunched his face deep in thought. “I ate a brownie before dinner! Rocco said that his friend Gio baked special brownies, and Rocco brought them tonight to share with us! Ari said I wouldn’t like it and shouldn’t have it, but I love brownies! Elena split hers with me.”

I started laughing hysterically. “Oh, Vic, do you have any idea what a ‘special brownie’ is?”

Vic shook his head. “I just assumed it was a really good brownie. A special one.”

“Vic, the reason Ari was trying to tell you not to have one was because there was marijuana in the brownies.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, and placed his hand on his cheek. “Wait, I just did drugs? Am I high? Why would Rocco give us brownies with pot in them? Without telling us?”

Maybe Deb and I had sheltered Vic too much. Ari was street smart, but Vic was our baby. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, and said, “You are most definitely high, Vic, but he did tell you. He told you they were ‘special’. You just didn’t know what he was implying. That’s why Ari tried to stop you. I think Elena and Rocco didn’t realize that you didn’t know.”

“Dad, please don’t be mad at me! How do I make this feeling stop?!”

I squeezed his shoulder as he started hyperventilating. “Vic, I'm not mad. Just breathe. It’ll be okay. Relax, and try to have fun tonight, which I realize sounds hard right now because you didn't choose to do this. When you’re older, and not in junior high, a little bit of pot can be fun, in moderation. Remember when you were drunk? It’ll feel kind of like that, you’ll feel a little different than normal, but you probably won’t throw up after.”

Vic stared off into space, deep in thought. “So… this is what being high feels like?”

“You might feel like this for the next few hours. It lasts less long when you smoke it. Just… don’t enjoy yourself too much, because you are definitely not allowed to do this again until at least high school, understood?”

“I understand. If I had known, I wouldn’t have eaten the brownie. I’m sorry, Dad.”

I led Vic back outside. He took his seat at the end of the table, next to Elena, who started playing with his hair. I was going to have to keep an eye on him tonight.

When I sat back down, Elio laced his fingers with mine, and quietly asked if everything was okay. I didn’t know if Paolo or Lucia knew that their kids were both high (though… it was hard not to notice), and didn’t want to upset them if they cared or didn’t know. Better to keep the peace. I whispered to Elio, “The kids are high. Rocco brought special brownies, and Vic ate one not knowing what it was…”

Elio looked over at Vic, who was chewing mindlessly on a piece of bread. “Oh no! Poor thing! Is he okay?”

I nodded. “He’ll be fine. I’ll just periodically check on him tonight. He’ll be at the table for a couple of hours, anyway, so most of it will wear off by the time we’re done with dinner. I'm going to have to have a talk with Ari about this when he's not stoned, he shouldn't have let his brother have the brownie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hopefully I'll get back on a more normal posting schedule this week. I have some fun things planned in the next few chapters :)
> 
> I'm a bit behind on my writing, so I'm going to be splitting some chapters in two or posting shorter chapters for a few days while I get everything back on track.
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words when I was away - you all had some lovely things to say. I love hearing what you all think!


	45. The Dinner Party, Part Two

_**POV: Oliver, July 9, 2007** _

Throughout dinner, I kept sneaking glances at Vic to make sure he was okay. He seemed more cheerful and goofy than usual, and was eating twice the amount he usually does, but was otherwise fine. Vic also did not stop looking at Elena. Ari was somewhat more collected, but still occasionally had the giggles, and devoured everything in sight, but that was a usual occurrence for him, with or without marijuana.

At some point, I think Sammy realized that Jasmine was the only person under twenty who wasn’t high, or at least that she was bored at her end of the table, so he moved a chair closer to our end and invited her to come talk about the research they were doing, and their hopes of publication.

“Professor Perlman is helping me beef up my resume and get published in as many journals as I can while I’m an undergraduate, so I’ll have a better shot at winning a Fulbright or a Rhodes," Jasmine told us. I was impressed by her ambition, and hoped that some of it would rub off on Ari.

Mafalda served us fantastic cotoletta, a Milanese veal cutlet specialty, as we collectively consumed massive amounts of wine. This was turning into one of the most wonderful evenings I'd ever had at the villa, spending time with Elio's family and closest friends, while my boys were close by. Before dessert, I got up and went over to Vic. I put my hand on his shoulder, and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good! Everything feels all light and tingly and wonderful and words take a long time to say,” he said, grabbing his water and taking a big gulp. “And my mouth is dry.”

I squeezed his shoulder and said, “The dry mouth will pass. Otherwise you’re okay?”

Vic nodded. “Everything’s great over here!”

I then leaned over to Ari and whispered, “You and I need to have a conversation tomorrow. I don’t care that you were getting high, but you let your 13-year-old brother do it?”

“Dad, I tried to tell him not to, but he took a brownie from Elena before I could stop him! He didn’t realize there was pot in them!”

“I know that, Ari, but you need to be a more responsible older brother. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow.”

“Ugh, Dad, way to be a buzzkill, this was a really good high, too,” Ari said.

I went back to my seat, slightly annoyed at my older son. Elio squeezed my arm, noticing that I was trying to hide that I was angry. I took a deep breath, and rejoined the conversation, about Italian politics (of which I admittedly did not know enough about). Annella and Paolo were complaining about Silvio Berlusconi, and how he was probably going to ruin the country if his “Freedom Party” coalition came into being and won the next election. "He's so sleazy," Chiara added.

Mafalda soon brought us out dark chocolate gelato with raspberry sauce. “At least it’s actual sauce, and not from a nosebleed,” I whispered to Elio, who jokingly kicked me under the table.

“Yes! Gelato twice in one day!” Vic shouted from his end of the table, immediately devouring what was placed in front of him. Once the kids finished their gelato, Ari, Vic, Rocco and Elena ran back indoors. Vic stopped to give Mafalda a hug, thanking her for dinner and dessert, before going inside. I made eye contact with Ari, giving him a look that I hoped he understood meant “ _look after your brother_ ”. 

“Are you going to join them?” Sammy asked Jasmine.

“That’s okay, I’d rather stay out here with the adults tonight.”

* * *

After we finished off the wine, Sammy corralled us into the living room for more drinks. “Why don’t we go find Vic, and ask him to play something for us on the piano? I haven’t actually heard him play yet,” Thierry said.

Chiara clapped her hands. “If he’s half as good as Elio, we’ll have a real treat!”

“He's even better than I was at that age, but I’m not so sure that’s a good idea tonight,” Elio said, smirking at me. “Maybe we should just let him be. I’ll play for everyone now. We’ll have you over another night next week and Vic and I will play something together.” 

As Elio sat down at the piano, I went to go look for the boys, to make sure that Vic was still okay. They weren’t in the living room, or in the kitchen, where I half expected them to be eating more snack foods. I found Rocco and Ari in Sammy’s office, playing a game on Ari’s laptop. “Where’s Vic?” I asked.

“Dunno,” Ari said, pushing some buttons on the computer, ignoring me.

“Why aren’t you keeping an eye on him?” I asked, in a huffy tone.

“Why do I have to keep an eye on him? He’s your son, not mine, he's not my responsibility,” Ari said.

I took a very deep breath. “ **BECAUSE YOU LET HIM GET HIGH**. You should have known better!”

“Sorry, that’s my fault, I didn’t know that Vic didn’t know what a special brownie was,” Rocco said, leaning back in his chair. “Check the attic, I think Vic wanted to play something for Elena on the clarinet?”

I wanted to yell at Rocco, and tell him to never offer drugs to my children again, but I held back, and went in search of Vic. Saying something right now would just make things worse.

I went back to the kitchen and up the stairs to the attic. There was no sound of Vic’s clarinet - where could they be? I rounded the staircase, quietly opened the door, and I first noticed Vic’s clarinet and music stand were out, but Vic wasn’t there. Then, I saw Vic lying down on his bed, with Elena lying on top of him, kissing him. His hands were running down her back, and her fingers were in his hair, but they were fully clothed at least. I stood there frozen, unsure of whether I should end this, or leave the room and pretend like I never saw anything. Vic was almost fourteen, there was nothing wrong with him kissing a girl, but on the other hand, they were horizontal, and they were both high.

Before I had a chance to make up my mind, Vic noticed me standing at the door. “Oh, crap... “ he said, and Elena rolled off of him and sat on the edge of the bed. “Hi Dad…” Vic said, sitting up and grabbing a pillow, putting it on his lap.

Elena turned beat red, and looked mortified.

“Hi Vic, I was just coming to check on you and see if you were okay… I… I’m just going to go back downstairs…” I said, backing up, heading back toward the staircase.

“I’m okay, we’re okay here, I’m feeling better now… I think the pot is leaving my system...” he said. "Bye!" he added, shooing me away with his hand.

“I should have told him what was in the brownie,” Elena said, profusely apologizing. “After dinner, he told me that he didn’t know what he had eaten until you told him... I would have never shared with him if I’d known…”

“It’s okay, Elena. It was all just a big misunderstanding,” I said.

“I promise I won’t get high again,” Vic said. “This one time is enough for me. Now, why don't you go back down?” he said, fingers digging into the pillow on his lap.

I wasn’t so sure that this would be the last time he'd ever get high, but I smiled at him and nodded. “I’ll go back downstairs and leave you two alone… I would just appreciate if you were more… vertical?” I said. Elena hid her head in her hand.

“Bye, Dad,” Vic said, raising his eyebrow, indicating that I had not yet gotten the hint.

“I’m just going to leave this door propped open,” I said, letting him know that he was not to progress his kissing any further. I trusted Vic, but as a parent, I just had to make a point.

Elio was just finishing up at the piano when I got back to the living room. I sat down on the couch, and everyone clapped when Elio was done. He sat on one of my legs, squishing between me and Marzia, and wrapped his arms around my neck, resting his head on my shoulder. I squeezed him tight, kissing the top of his head. I’d tell him about what I walked into later. Marzia squeezed Elio’s thigh, smiling warmly at him.

We sat around drinking cocktails for another hour or so, until everyone started getting sleepy. “It’s probably time for us to head back,” Marzia said.

“Us, too,” Lucia said. “I should go find my children.”

“Rocco’s in Sammy’s office, but I’ll go grab Elena,” I said, quickly jumping off of the couch. If Vic and Elena were kissing again, I wanted to spare them the embarrassment of another parent walking in on them. I went into the kitchen, climbed halfway up the stairs to the attic, and shouted up the staircase. “Elena! Your parents are looking for you! They’re ready to head home!”

As I went back down the stairs, Jasmine was in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. 

“Hi Jasmine, did you have a nice evening?” I asked, grabbing a glass and pouring myself some water.

“This was lovely! Elio’s friends are all so nice, and you and Elio are so sweet together,” she said, grinning.

“This probably isn’t my place to ask… but, are you and my son fighting? You’ve been spending all of your evenings with him, but tonight you spent the whole time with us.”

“Nope, we’re great!” Jasmine said. “Ari is really smart, and really nice. I like him a lot. I just…” she paused for a moment, and then realized I knew what was going on all night. “I have no interest in getting high, and I didn’t really want to spend the night with four stoned teenagers while I wasn’t high myself. I figured it would be more enjoyable tonight to drink wine with the adults and talk about my research and politics.”

I nodded. That made perfect sense. It’s never fun to be the sober one in a group.

Vic and Elena soon ran down the stairs, and stood at the doorway of the kitchen.

Elena held her hands behind her back, swinging her body toward Vic. “I’ll see you soon?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Definitely! Let’s hang out later this week!” he said, grinning stupidly.

"Goodnight, Vic," Elena said kissing him on the cheek. 

He stood in place, holding his hand over the spot that she kissed, sighing loudly as she walked away. Once she was out of the room, Vic pressed his head against my arm. "I really like her, Dad."

"I can tell," I said, smiling at my son. He had been continually growing, and I noticed his head hit a higher spot on my arm than it used to. He was growing up, both literally and figuratively, right before my eyes. I didn't think he had expected to have such an eventful summer.

"Elena is a sweet girl," Jasmine added for my benefit. "Why don't you ask her to come over and swim in a few days?"

"That's a great idea!" Vic said, running after Elena to catch her before she left.

"I should have kept a better eye on him tonight, I'm sorry," Jasmine said, after Vic left the room. "It didn't occur to me that he didn't know what was in the brownie until after he ate it."

"You have no need to apologize, you aren't his babysitter, Vic isn't your responsibility. I do think he appreciates your friendship and company, though. You've been so great to both of my boys," I said, letting Jasmine know that I approved of her and Ari, and that I genuinely liked her.

"Thank you," she said, shyly resting her hand behind her neck.

* * *

After the guests all left, we said goodnight to the kids, Elio kissed his parents, and we went upstairs to our bedroom.

We closed the door, and Elio took a plastic bag out of his pocket. "Look what Rocco left behind in the living room..." he said, showing me the bag that still had a brownie inside.

"You didn't!" I said, smirking at Elio.

"I most definitely did," he replied, with a devious look.

"It's too late for us to eat that tonight... Anyway, I can't remember the last time I was high."

"I can... It was last week..."

Elio put the bag on my nightstand and I wrapped my arms around him. "When were you smoking last week?"

He looked down at his feet, avoiding my question. "I... It was a day or two before the opera. I caught Ari smoking on the balcony and I was having a really frustrating day and took a few hits..."

I wasn't sure if this was funny or if I should be angry. I decided to lean on the former. "My son smoked you out last week... This is very, very strange for me, Elio. It’s almost comical."

"I'm sorry... I immediately knew I shouldn't have but I couldn't stop myself in the moment."

I kept him in a tight embrace. "Why is everyone apologizing to me for my sons' actions? It's fine, but you probably shouldn't do that again, especially now that you're going to be a parental figure in his life. If you want to be, we haven’t really talked about that yet… But we should probably draw some boundaries."

Elio placed his hands on my lower back, and looked up at me. “I want to be whatever you want or need me to be in Ari and Vic’s lives. I’ve never dated anyone with children before, but I adore your kids, and whatever you want me to do, I’ll do.”

I kissed his forehead, continuing to hold him close. “Do you think we’re moving too fast? We’ve only been together for a week, and I’m already trying to figure out your place and responsibility in my sons’ lives. It’s unfair of me to expect that from you.”

He gently pulled me toward the bed, and we both sat on the edge. “Oliver, this hasn’t only been a week. It’s been my entire adult life, it just took us twenty years to find each other again.” Elio grabbed my hand and firmly grasped it. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with you, and I know that you’ll need me to have some sort of relationship with your kids. You and your boys are a package deal, and I don’t want to or expect to replace their mother, but if you need me to be a parental figure with authority, I’ll be a parental figure. If you need me to be more of a cool hands-off uncle, I can be that, too. If you just want me to be their friend or mentor, well, we’re already there. But do I think you and I are moving too fast? No. We’re not rushing into anything. We’re exactly where we should be.”

One thing I appreciated, now that Elio was an adult, was how mature he could be (that is, if we disregarded that he smoked pot with my seventeen year old). Not in the way he was mature and wise beyond his years at seventeen, but actually mature and wise, now in his late thirties. He knew exactly what to say. I wished that I had been around to see him grow into this wonderful, amazing person, but I was happy we had found each other once more. I rubbed my index finger under my eyes, wiping away a few tears.

“I love you, Elio. More than I can find the words to express. Thank you for being here, thank you for being you. Over time, we’ll figure out your role in my boys’ lives, but I know your role in my life. You are my everything.” I kissed him softly, batting away a few stray tears.

After a passionate love-making session that rivaled the one from this afternoon, we laid in silence, my head on his chest, as he ran his fingers up and down my arm.

“So, we should probably figure out what to do with that brownie…” Elio said, breaking the silence.

“Let’s figure it out tomorrow. And by figure it out, I mean find a few hours for us to be alone and eat it. For now, let’s sleep,” I said, yawning. We quickly fell asleep, our legs and bodies entwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Elio have now started to discuss what Elio's place is in the boys' lives, so things are getting long-term and serious :)
> 
> Thank you for all of the comments and kudos :) I love waking up to new comments each morning! Responding to everything has become part of my morning routine.


	46. Not Just All Kittens and Rainbows

_**POV: Ari, July 10, 2007** _

I was so baked that I barely remembered last night. Gio had given Rocco some really, really good shit. All I know is that by the time I went to Jasmine’s room, she was already asleep, and I didn’t want to disrupt her or sleep there without her permission, so I went back up to the attic. I pulled off my pajamas, stripping to just my boxers, and jumped into bed. When I pulled the sheet up, I screamed. Vic was sprawled across my mattress.

“Why’dja wake me up?” Vic yawned.

“Because you’re sleeping in my bed, get up! Why  _are_ you in my bed?”

“It’s bigger and more comfortable than mine, and you’ve been sleeping in Jasmine’s bed every night. Why aren’t you there now? Trouble in paradise?” Vic asked.

“Because she was already asleep when I got to her room, and I didn’t want to bother her. Give me back my bed!”

“No, you sleep in the other one. I was already asleep.”

I picked up a pillow and hit him with it. “Get. Out. Of. My. Bed.” I hit him with the pillow after each word.

“Fine, fine! You win.” He sleepily rolled out of the bed and got into his smaller one.

I got under the cover, and yawned. “Hey Vic, I’m sorry about earlier tonight. I should have told you what was in the brownies,” I said. “I just didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Elena.”

“I figured that out, eventually. Being high was fun, though, I see why you like doing it. Everything felt… freer, and happier.”

“Yeah, being high is nice. Just, don’t get used to it. Dad’s probably not going to let you do it again for a few years,” I said. “But, if you want to go behind his back and smoke with me, let me know.”

Vic laughed. “I think I’m good for a while. I promised Dad I wouldn’t.” He took a deep breath. “Want to hear something awkward? After dinner, I came up here to play clarinet for Elena,”

“How romantic,” I interjected. “What a beginning to a nerdy love story.”

“Hey! Anyway, she pushed me on the bed, and laid on top of me, and we were making out.”

“Go Vic!”

“While we were making out, Dad came up here and walked in on us. He wanted to see how I was doing after the brownies. Elena tried to hide, and I had to hold a pillow on my lap the entire time he was up here. It was so uncomfortable and awkward,” Vic said. “He made us leave the door open and told us that he’d prefer if we remained vertical.”

I laughed hysterically. “Thank you, I needed that laugh. We should ask Anchise if he can put a lock on this door, that way it won’t happen in the future.”

Vic yawned loudly. “I’m tired, we need to get some sleep because we have to get up early to run. Good night!”

* * *

Elio looked grumpy as he joined us for our run again the next morning. I assumed Dad was forcing him to join us, against his will. Elio seemed too smitten with Dad to protest.

We retraced yesterday's steps, running to the lake and back. We took it at a slower pace, to accommodate Elio and Vic. "Can't we just go ahead and they can meet us back at the villa?" I asked, running in place as we waited for Elio and Vic to catch up.

"I wouldn't let you leave your brother behind, we're not leaving Elio either."

"Ugh, fine," I muttered. If he was going to make me wake up early everyday, I wanted to run at my pace, not accommodate everyone else, but this wasn't an argument I was going to win. I think Dad was using this as an excuse for family bonding, and by including Elio now, he was trying to make us bond with him more.

"We do need to talk about yesterday, though," Dad said. "You need to watch your brother more carefully. He's so trusting and innocent, and you should have told him what he was eating."

"I know, Dad. I had like ten seconds to weigh my options, and I decided it was better to not embarrass him in front of Elena than show everyone how naive he is. I tried to hint that he wouldn't like it,"I said defensively.

"Ari, Vic looks up to you. I know you think he's not your responsibility, but you need to keep an eye on him when I can't. He's still young, and if you're doing something, he's going to want to do it, too, so just... be more mindful of what you're doing when you're around him. I don't care when you smoke or drink in moderation, but try to set a good example for your brother, please?"

The perils of being the older child. I love Vic, but he was old enough to make his own choices and decisions. Not everything he did was influenced by me. But, I didn't want to upset Dad, so I just agreed with him now. "Okay, Dad. I'll be more aware of what I'm doing around him and what I tell him about."

“Thank you,” Dad said, as Vic and Elio turned the corner and caught up with us. Elio was panting heavily.

“Does this ever get easier?” Elio said, resting his head on Dad’s shoulder. Dad wrapped his arm around him. It was still so weird seeing them openly affectionate like this, with someone who wasn’t Mom, but I was happy that Dad was happy. I liked Elio, and I thought that he’d let me get away with a lot. Selfishly, if Dad stayed with Elio, it probably meant there were more trips to Italy in the foreseeable future.

“You’ll get better over time. Or we’ll find some other form of exercise if running’s not for you,” Dad said.

“C’mon, let’s get back to the villa, I’m starving,” I said. Residual munchies were the worst.

We jogged back to the villa at a slower pace, to accommodate Vic and Elio. I had to keep holding myself back from running faster, but eventually, we settled at an easy pace that allowed us to talk while we jogged.

When we got back to the villa, I briefly pulled Dad aside. “Hey, Dad, can I borrow some money?”

“What for?” he asked, scratching his head.

“Well, since I’m not lifeguarding at the JCC this summer, and this internship is unpaid, I don’t actually have that much money, and I wanted to take Jasmine out on a date today.”

Dad smirked, and nodded his head. “Say no more, come find me after breakfast and I’ll give you some Euros.”

* * *

After I spent the morning scanning a box of Pro’s old slides, and Jasmine edited her paper, we decided to take a ride into town. I was going to surprise her with a lunch date. Dad didn’t give me much money, so I was going to take Jasmine for fancy pizza, and then we’d go play pool.

Over delicious thin crust pizza, we talked about what I might want to study in college. “I’d never really given it that much thought. Not to brag, but I’ve always been kind of good at everything, so I always thought that I’d just figure it out in college,” I said. “But, I am really liking what we’re doing this summer, and I think I want to continue with classics.”

“That was how I was until my senior year. I took a summer program in classics at Michigan after my junior year of high school, meant for people who were at the top of their class in history and English, and I fell in love. I took a community college course in Latin during my senior year to show my dedication and to learn more before college. Does your high school offer Latin?”

I shook my head. “Nah, we’ve got Spanish, French, German, Mandarin and Arabic, I think.”

“Can you take courses at Tufts for free because of your Dad? Maybe you could take Latin or some intro classics seminar - that’ll help your Columbia application,” she said, taking a bite of pizza and letting the cheese drip everywhere. She got some sauce on her cheek, and I leaned over and playfully licked it off.

“Hey!” she said, laughing.

“I’ll have to ask my Dad about taking classes at Tufts, but I bet you’re right.”

* * *

We went to a bar near the Piazza del Duomo to play pool and darts. I was decent at darts, but I was proving to be terrible at pool. On my first shot, I scratched the cue ball, so Jasmine jumped up and down, shouting “I win! That was easy!”

Over the next three games, I managed to sink the eight ball on one of my first shots, got nearly only stripes in the pockets when I was solids, and hit the ball so hard it bounced off of the pool table. I was feeling flustered, so Jasmine came over and rubbed my back. “It’s just a game,” she said, lining up her shot and getting two balls in at once.

“How are you so good at this?” I asked her.

“I used to play as a kid at the rec center where parents left my brothers and me when they were working late. Jamal used to work there after school, and that’s where Julian and I usually waited until our parents could take us home. I had to get good if I wanted to beat my brothers. They used to tease me that I was just a girl and couldn’t win, so I practiced a lot and now I’m the best in my family.”

I smiled at her. “I like that you’re motivated by revenge. You’re not just all kittens and rainbows like some girls.”

“I thought I was more calculators and poems, but I see what you mean.”

After another round of pool that Jasmine handily won, we sat at the bar, where we each ordered a beer. I **loved** that I could drink in Italy. I wasn’t sure what the legal drinking age was, but no one had ever ID’d me anywhere we went, so I was taking full advantage. Our fingers were interlaced while we talked, and we occasionally kissed, until an old man at the bar jokingly threw a coaster at us.

Before we went back home, we stopped into the gelato shop, where Carmela once again let us sample all of the flavors before we each bought a scoop. This had been such a wonderful, low-key date. The sun was shining brightly and reflected off of the glitter on her flipflops. I’d never felt this happy and this at ease with a girl, especially one I was hooking up with. I didn’t feel the need to try to impress her - I was showing Jasmine the real me, never putting up a facade, and I think she was doing the same. Everything just came so easy, so natural with us. At some point I wanted to take her out on a genuinely nice date.

We were about to hop back on our bikes, when she wrapped her arms around my waist and got on her tiptoes to kiss me. “Thank you for this afternoon, this was really nice. I’ve never actually been on a real date before,” she said.

I knew she’d never had a boyfriend, but I didn’t know that she’d never even been on a date. “Oh! If I had known, I wouldn’t have just taken you for pizza. I would have pulled out all of the stops!” I said, embarrassed.

“No, Ari, seriously. This was perfect, thank you.” We stood in front of our bikes, making out for a while, before deciding we should head back to the villa.

* * *

A few hours later, we were snuggling on the couch, watching television, when the phone rang. Mafalda answered, and passed the phone off to Mrs. P.

“Hello, this is Annella Perlman… Yes, I am Elio’s mother… No, Oliver isn’t here right now, I think he may have gone into town… I don’t know if he’s checked his email recently… You want to talk to one of his boys? Ari is in the room, let me pass him the phone.”

Who could possibly be on the phone, looking for Dad? What was the emergency?

Annella came over to me, and said, “A friend of your father’s is on the telephone, and he would like to speak with you.”

“Hello, Ari speaking,” I said, picking up the receiver.

“Hi, Ari! It’s your dad’s friend Howie. Howie Levinson, Tanner and Sabrina’s dad?”

“I know who you are. Is everything okay back home?”

“I’ve been emailing and trying to video message your father, but he hasn’t picked up. I was able to get the Perlman’s number from a colleague at Brandeis who did some work with Dr. Perlman. Have you checked your email or Facebook today?”

“Not since this morning, why?” I motioned for Jasmine to come over. “Can you bring me my laptop?” I whispered to her. She ran out of the room and came back a minute later with my computer.

“You should look at your brother’s Facebook account right now,” Howie said. “I’ll wait.”

My computer was taking forever to boot up, but when it finally did, I opened Facebook, clicked around a bit, when I found what Howie wanted me to see, and my jaw dropped. “Oh, shit,” I said out loud, into the phone. Vic was going to be in HUGE trouble.

“Thanks for letting me know, Howie. I’ll try to track my Dad down now.”

I asked Annella for Elio’s cell phone number. He had a phone that he used when he was in Italy - there wasn’t always great reception, but he was here often enough that his family kept a phone for him to use when he was here. I called Elio’s phone, and after a few rings, Elio answered, giggling.

“Oliver, stop that, that tickles!” he said. Gross. “Maman? Papa? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”

“Elio, it’s me, Ari, can you put my Dad on the phone? I need to talk to him.”

A few seconds later, as I heard them both giggling in the background, my Dad took the phone. “Ari, is everything okay?”

“I don’t know where you are right now, but you should probably come home. No one died, it's not serious in that way, but there is something that you need to take care of immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger like this!
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments. I appreciate everyone who's still sticking with the story :)


	47. I Love How You Say My Name

_**POV: Oliver, July 10, 2007** _

Since we’d done a sufficient amount of work in the morning, Elio and I decided to ride our bikes to the berm and share the brownie that he’d rescued the previous evening. Before we left, I packed a backpack with a blanket, water, both salty and sweet snacks (couldn’t predict what exactly we’d be craving), and condoms and lube, because pot usually made me horny when I was younger. Who was I kidding, Elio made me horny, but the pot was going to exacerbate that. Elio also packed a bag. This was going to be a fun afternoon.

Once we got to the berm, I set up our blanket, and we sat down next to each other. Elio took the brownie out of his backpack, split it in half, and said, “Cheers!”

We each ate our half, and waited for the drug to hit our systems. “Let’s go skinny dipping,” Elio said, as we sat, waiting for the brownies to kick in. It had barely been five minutes - usually, it took at least half an hour, maybe close to an hour, but I also hadn't done this in over a decade.

“Skinny dipping? The water barely goes above my ankles.”

“What?” Elio said leeringly. “Can’t that just be an excuse to get you naked? Also, if we wade a little further, the water is about as deep as your waist.”

I stood up and stripped off my clothing, throwing them to the ground. “I’ll race you to the pond.”

I was already naked, so I had a head start. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Elio take his clothing off THIS quickly before. He took off my Zayde’s watch and carefully put it in the backpack. I eased myself into the cold water, and Elio ran into the pond, jumping onto my back. He wrapped his arms around my neck and legs around my waist, his cock pressing against my back. I carried him piggyback as I waded through the water. Elio pressed his body close to mine, resting his head on the top of my head.

“So, where’s the water deeper?” I asked.

“Over there,” he said, pointing to a portion of water underneath some trees.

I carried him until the water hit my hips, and Elio jumped off. I pulled him closer, holding him tight while I kissed him. Our tongues danced while our hands explored each other’s backs. We made out like teenagers in the water, kissing and groping. I tugged at Elio’s erection, but he moved my hand. “Let’s wait a little while,” he said, pressing his lips to mine once more. I was fine with waiting until we were high before progressing any further, but kissing now was delightful. Our mouths and bodies were made for each other. We had two decades of lost kisses to make up for.

“Let’s go back to the blanket,” I said, after we’d been kissing for a while. I was slowly feeling the effects of the brownie, and I think Elio was, too. He jumped on my back once more, nestling into me as I carried him through the pond, and back to the blanket.

We laid side by side on the blanket, holding hands, looking up at the clouds for a long time, finally feeling the brownie. “That cloud looks like a dinosaur,” I said, pointing to one directly overhead.

Elio laughed, and said, “That one looks like a mound of cotton balls.”

I nudged him in the ribs. “That’s cheating, you goose. That’s what clouds ALWAYS look like.”

“Fine,” he said, resting his head on my shoulder. “That one, over there, looks like a poodle. Pooooooodle. What a funny name for a dog breed. I can see my lips when I say that.”

“Poooooodle. You’re right!” I said, laughing. Oh man, this was really potent stuff. This was what Vic ate yesterday? He’s half my weight, he must have been stoned out of his freaking mind. He must have been terrified.

“Hey Elio? Ehhhleeeeeooooooo,” I said, playing with his hair.

“Yeah, Ollll-ihhhhh-vvver?” he said, making fun of me.

“I love this. I love you. I love being here with you. We’re so perfect together. Elio and Oliver. Even our names sound perfect together. They have the same three syllable patter.”

Elio nuzzled his face into my chest hair. “Nuh uh, my name is only two syllables.”

“What are you talking about? Eh-leeee-oh. Three.”

“So... You don’t actually pronounce my name the correct Italian way. It’s more of a two syllable sort of thing. It’s actually more Elle-yo than, say, spelling the name Leo in English, L-E-O.”

I turned on my side to face him. "I've been pronouncing your name wrong for twenty years?"

"No, you've been saying it perfectly. I love how you say my name. Call me by my name, call me by your name, it doesn't matter as long as you're calling me something and we're together," Elio said, kissing my nose.

"L-E-O... Elio... Elle-yo. I don't hear the difference," I said, saying each version out loud.

"Should I just start calling you Ulliva like Mafalda does and call it even?" he asked.

I laughed and said, "I prefer when you call me Elio in bed." I made sure to enunciate the three syllables, not two.

"Is that so?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded, grabbing him by the waist and bringing him on top of me. As we kissed, I slowly ran my hands down his body, letting each touch linger. Fuck, this was so good when I was high. This was the highest I'd been since grad school.

Elio slowly started kissing my neck, my shoulders, my chest, kissing and softly touching each piece of skin. He eventually took my length in his mouth, teasingly and slowly pleasuring me. I loved that we were alone, with no one for miles, and totally baked. I could be as loud as I wanted to be, relaxed and calm, with no inhibitions stopping me. All I could think about was that this was where I was meant to be. I was meant to be here, with Elio, always. "Fuck, this is incredible," I said.

After I climaxed, I turned him over and reciprocated, taking my time, savoring everything. I put him on all fours, spread his cheeks, and started flicking my tongue at his hole. I let my tongue explore, reacting to Elio's every noise and moan.

* * *

Elio opened his backpack while we were snuggling and took out a jar of Nutella and a bag of salted bread sticks. "I am really hungry." He handed me a bread stick, and dipped his in Nutella, and I followed suit.

"You haven't changed much since you were seventeen. Do you still devour this stuff by the gallon?"

"We're in Europe, silly, it's by the liter. And yes, Nutella is freaking incredible."

After the bread sticks kept cracking as we dipped them into the jar, we resorted to just using our fingers. "Yummmm, this tastes so good."

"You taste so good," Elio said, smirking. He dipped his finger into the jar, ran it across my stomach, and proceeded to lick the Nutella off. I laughed as he did this, as it tickled as much as it felt amazing. "I'm ready for round two, if you are."

I unzipped my own backpack and took out the condoms and lube. "Look at you, always prepared," Elio said, as he kept licking my torso. "I don't want to use condoms anymore," he sighed, resting his head on my chest.

"Then let's go get tested this week, and we'll figure it out from there. As much as I agree with you, we need to be safe," I said. He nodded sadly.

While I was inside him, and we moaned our own names to each other, Elio said, "I just remembered that we were a little bit high our first time, too."

I buried my head against his stomach. "We weren't this high, though. We can't make pot a habit, but, fuck, this is unreal," I said.

* * *

After we cleaned ourselves off, we sat next to each other, eating the potato chips and cookies I had packed, as well as Elio's Nutella, drinking plenty of water. I kissed him hungrily, and he was this perfect combination of salty, sweet, and Elio. Suddenly, his cell phone started ringing. He usually took the phone with him, but I'd never once heard it ring.

"I should answer that, it's probably my parents, they don't usually call this phone..." he said, digging in his bag for the phone. He also grabbed the watch and put it back on while he answered.

As he opened his flip phone to answer, I started kissing his neck, nipping at his milky white skin.

"Oliver, stop that, that tickles," he said, giggling.

“Maman? Papa? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”

Elio nudged me to stop kissing him, and whispered, "It's Ari, he needs to speak to you."

I licked some Nutella off of Elio's cheek, and we both giggled uncontrollably, and I took the phone.

“Ari, is everything okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know where you are right now, but you should probably come home. No one died, it's not serious in that way, but there is something that you need to take care of immediately.”

I sat up straight, trying to clear my head and sober up. "What are you talking about? Are you and Vic okay? Is it the Perlmans?"

"Nothing like that, Dad. I can't really tell you over the phone, this is something you need to see. I'm not really sure what to do."

I almost asked if Jasmine was pregnant, but they'd only been fooling around for a week, even if she'd gotten pregnant the first night, which she'd better not have, they wouldn't know yet.

"How long can this wait? We're not... sober enough, to ride our bikes right now..." I said. Elio nodded, agreeing with me.

"I don't think you should wait. Where are you? I'll see if Mrs. P or Anchise can drive to get you," Ari said.

"We're at the berm. Remember where Jasmine took us on that picnic when we rode our bikes?"

"I remember, I think I remember how to get there. Hold on a second." Ari put the phone down and I heard him speaking but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

"What's wrong?" Elio asked resting his head on my shoulder.

"I have no idea, but apparently it's something bad, and Ari wants me to come home immediately."

"Hello, Oliver?" Annella said on the phone.

"Yes, hi Annella, is everything okay?" I asked.

"Yes, I think everything is fine, Ari may be overreacting slightly, but I do think you'll want to come home. Can you put Elio on the phone so he can tell me where you are so I can come get you?"

I handed the phone off to Elio, who started speaking to his mother in French. I began digging in the clothing pile, and got dressed. I handed Elio his clothing, and he put them on while he talked.

He closed the phone and put it back in the bag. "My mother will be here soon."

We folded up the blanket and sat on the grass, munching on the potato chips as we waited for Annella. Elio held my hand, squeezing tightly. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be okay. They said everyone is okay."

"I know, but I don't like not knowing, and my deliriously wonderful high is now more of a paranoia and fear for the worst," I said.

Maybe five minutes, and maybe a half hour had passed, when we saw the Fiat pull up the dirt road. We tied our bikes to the roof, and hopped in the back seat, as Ari was in the passenger seat.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?" I said, as Annella drove.

"I told you, it's something you have to see," Ari said.

"He's right," Annella chimed in.

After the world's longest car ride, we arrived at the villa. I ran out of the car, following Ari. "C'mon, Dad."

He led me to Sammy's office, where Jasmine and a terrified looking Vic were sitting on the couch. I stood next to Ari as he opened his laptop, loaded Facebook, and went to Vic's profile. He showed me the album that Vic had posted before lunch.

"Just click through these," he said. "Make sure to look at the comments, too."

I went picture by picture, and didn't see what was wrong. Pictures of Vic at the piano, of Noemie and Jasmine giving Ari a kiss on the forehead and cheek respectively, of Sammy and Annella drinking coffee. Then I saw what he was talking about.

The picture was innocent enough. It was a picture of Noemie on Ari's shoulders, that Vic had captioned, "The world's most reluctant babysitter." Elio and I were in the background, holding hands on our lounge chairs as we read. In the next picture, from the same angle, Vic managed to get an action shot of Ari getting hit in the head with a beach ball meant for Noemie - "Right in the kisser!" he'd captioned it. Behind them, Elio and I were kissing. His hands were around my neck, and my hand was in his hair. We were both shirtless, in our swimming trunks. There was no denying what was happening in these pictures.

"Oh, fuck." I said aloud. I scrolled down, reading the comments.

_**"Haha, does Ari have a black eye now?"** _

_Vic: Unfortunately, he does not. Just a bruised ego._

 

_**"That's gotta hurt!"** _

_Vic: Not as much as you'd think._

 

_**"What's going on with your dad in these pictures?"** _

_Vic: Nothing._

 

_**"Wait, Vic, is your dad gay?"** _

_Vic: No, he's bi._

 

And then the comments poured in from my friends, most of whom Vic was Facebook friends with... because of course he is.

 

_**"Oliver, who is that, and are you kissing him?"** _

_Vic: That's Elio, his boyfriend._

 

_**"Why didn't you tell us you had a boyfriend, Oliver?"** _

_Vic: Don't know why. Elio's really nice._

 

I logged into my email, and had about 30 messages from people wanting to know who Elio was and why I was kissing him. Most were shockingly supportive, but they were all confused about why I hadn't told anyone about him or my sexuality. My friends and colleagues were spreading the pictures around like wildfire.

Elio sat on the couch with Jasmine, who showed him what Vic had posted. "Ohhh..." he said, frowning.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I didn't even notice you in the background! I didn't know people would react like this!" Vic was crying hysterically as Jasmine rubbed his back.

I started pacing around the room. "I was going to tell people about Elio after the summer, in person. I didn't want to do it like this..." I said. "Vic, you need to be more careful about what you post online. I'm not mad at you, I know you didn't mean it, but I'm going to have to do something about this now."

Elio stood up and wrapped his arms around me. "Is this it for us?" he asked, tears welling in his already bloodshot eyes.

"What? No, of course not. You're not getting rid of me that easily." I kissed the top of his head as he hugged me. "I love you. I just... need to resolve this, quickly. When the pot wears off, I can't do this high."

Ari overheard me. "Wait you're high? I just assumed you two were drunk when you said you weren't sober."

"This is neither the time nor place, Ari. We have a bigger problem to deal with right now. Vic, don't take down the picture, it'll look like we're hiding something, which we're not. Also, stop responding to people's comments."

I decided that in a couple of hours, when my brain was at full capacity, I would make a post on Facebook and respond to the emails clarifying everything. There were a lot of rumors floating around, and I wanted to put everything out in the open. This wasn't how I expected to present Elio and myself as a couple, to come out as it were, but I guess it was now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, PerpetualStorm figured out where I was going with this (most of you did, but they got it on the nose).
> 
> Don't worry, this isn't going to split up Elio and Oliver.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter! You are all the best!


	48. Facebook Official

_**POV: Elio, July 10, 2007** _

Oliver and I sat on our bed, and he rest his head on my shoulder. We each had our laptops out, and he was sitting drafting a Facebook post.

“I should post on Facebook first, right, before I respond to the barrage of emails?” Oliver asked.

“Probably. It’ll reach more people at once.”

I carded my fingers through his hair, trying to help Oliver relax.

Oliver sighed loudly. “Elio, this affects you, too. Are you okay with me doing this? With going public about our relationship?”

I’d never wanted to hide anything in my life. I was honest with my friends and family. “I want everyone to know. I want everyone to be incredibly jealous of how happy and in love we are, and how lucky I am to be with someone as sexy and smart as you,” I said, kissing his cheek.

“I’m the lucky one,” Oliver said. “You’re incredible.” He kept typing some words and then hitting delete. “Why do I need to do this? Why do I have to make a big proclamation telling people that I’m now with a man?”

“You don’t have to, Oliver. You can just ignore this, let it go. Acknowledge that we’re together if you want to, don’t hide it, but you don’t have to make some sort of grand speech about it.”

“I know that… but this has blown out of proportion, and I just want people to stop talking about me and spreading false or not totally correct rumors. If I do this, then everyone will know, and that’ll be that. No more hiding. We can just be happy together,” Oliver said.

I squeezed his shoulder and said, “I love you, Oliver. Do whatever you need to, I’m here for you.” Throughout my adult life, I'd never hidden who I was. I didn't necessarily scream to people, _I sleep with men and women!,_ but my friends and colleagues knew when I had a girlfriend or boyfriend. I didn't care if people called me gay, or bi, or something in between.

While we figured out what to write, Oliver was chatting with his friend Howie over Google Chat. I was reading over his shoulder.

* * *

**Howie : How are you holding up, buddy?**

_**Oliver : I'm okay. I'm trying to figure out what to say in response. I just want the rumors to stop.** _

**Howie : I get that. I mean, you were able to tell me about Elio, and that was before you were back together. I thought it was great that you were following your heart. I think most people you know are going to be fine with it. Remember that your social network is predominantly liberal Jews and east coast academics.**

_**Oliver : I know, but this isn't really how I wanted to come out to everyone. And I wanted to tell Deb's extended family in private, so they wouldn't be upset that I was seeing someone.** _

**Howie : She's been gone a long time, I think they'd want you to be happy. She would have wanted you to be happy and find someone.**

_**Oliver : Thank you. I can't believe you tracked down the Perlmans' number and called me in Italy to tell me about this.** _

**Howie : The comments were getting out of hand, and you weren't responding to me so I assumed you hadn't seen it yet. I wanted you to know as quickly as possible because I thought you'd want to control your own narrative yourself.**

_**Oliver : I appreciate that. I need to finish writing what I'm going to post, I'll show you before it goes live.** _

**Howie : Talk to you later, Ollie.**

* * *

"It's so weird that he calls you Ollie. I can't imagine you as anything other than my Oliver," I said.

Oliver chuckled. "He calls everyone by a nickname if he can. That's just how he is. Except it caught on in grad school, and a few people still call me that. I'd rather be Oliver. But Noemie was right the other day, that Elly and Ollie sound good together."

"I refuse to call you that. And I'd rather not be called Elly, that's reserved for my dad and Noemie. Though I think she'll grow out of it, when she learns how to say my name correctly. As much as I've protested throughout the years, my dad refuses to stop calling me Elly Belly."

"It's sweet that he calls you that." He started typing again, and asked, "Can you read this for me? Is this too much?"

* * *

**I wanted to address the rumors that have been spreading since my son posted some pictures on Facebook this morning. I was waiting until I was home and could tell people in person, but it seems that I need to address this now and it cannot wait a month until I'm back from Italy.**

**Victor confirmed it in his comments, but yes, I am currently with someone. His name is Elio Perlman, we have known each other for twenty years, and we have now fallen in love. My sons and I are staying with the Perlman family this summer (the arrangements were made before Elio and I started seeing each other), where Ari is interning for Dr. Samuel Perlman and Vic is studying music with Elio. Elio is currently a professor at Princeton, where he teaches music theory and composition. Elio and I had a brief romance the summer I stayed in Italy during graduate school, and we have since reconnected after Deb died.**

**To answer some of the questions I've been barraged with:**

**-No, I am not gay, I identify as bisexual, not that it should matter whatsoever.**

**-Yes, Deb knew that I am bisexual, and knew about my past with Elio. We were fully open and honest with each other.**

**-Yes, I loved Deb.**

**-No, I was not cheating on Deb with Elio, the summer that Elio and I met or at any time since then.**

**-No, this is not a phase.**

**-No, I am not having a mid-life crisis.**

**-Yes, Elio is "a nice Jewish boy," and for you academic elitists, he has a more impressive Ivy League resume than most of you (undergrad AND doctorate at Yale, post doc at Brown, professor at Princeton).**

**-Yes, my sons and Elio's family all know that we are together and are very supportive of our relationship, and I hope you all will be, too.**

**It's absurd that in this day and age, I have to "come out" like this, but here you go. I am in a relationship with a man. Elio is wonderful and makes me happy. Expect to see much more of him going forward.**

**Please respect my family's privacy and stop spreading rumors until you know the truth. Know that we all miss Deb very much, but she passed away a year and a half ago, and I am now in a new happy and loving relationship. The boys and our close friends keep reminding me that she would have wanted me to find happiness and love, like I had with her. I have that once again, in spades.**

**Thank you,**

**Oliver**

* * *

I handed the laptop back to Oliver. "I didn't know you had such a flair for the dramatic, but I think it's perfect."

"Let me send this to Howie and see what he thinks," Oliver said. He copied the message into the chat window and we waited for a reply.

"When did you tell him about us?"

Oliver told me about his history with his friend Howie, and how they fell back into a close friendship recently. As we talked, he started responding to the emails he'd received.

Ten minutes later, Howie responded.

* * *

  **Howie : Looks perfect. Post that and I'll comment immediately, showing my support.**

_**Oliver : Thanks, buddy. I really appreciate it.** _

* * *

Oliver pasted the text into the Facebook notes window, and clicked post. "Here goes nothing," he said. He then updated his status to read:

 

_**" Oliver Morgenstern is... upset about the rumors that are being spread about him and his family. I wrote a long note explaining everything. Please visit my profile to read it." ** _

 

"Go on Facebook, there's one more thing left to do," he said.

He opened up the edit profile window, changed his hidden relationship status (which he'd removed from the profile after Deb died) to "In a relationship", and typed my name in the box, making the field visible to his friends. I opened my own Facebook account and clicked accept, to add the same to my profile. "We're like the college students we teach - making things Facebook official," I said, kissing his cheek.

"I hate technology sometimes, but I do love that it says 'In a relationship with Elio Perlman," Oliver said. "Written out in black and white, for the world to see."

"Elio Perlman is in a relationship with Oliver Morgenstern. It feels so good to see that written down, permanently on the internet like that," I said, smiling. "I'm sorry it had to be this way, though, and not on your terms."

"This is on my terms. I am so happy with you, and I want the world to know. I just think that by having to do it online, I lost the chance to do it in person, and introduce you to people as 'my amazing and handsome partner, Dr. Elio Perlman.' "

"You'll have a lifetime of opportunities to do that, people are just expecting me now instead of it being a surprise. I'll have every chance to point you out in a crowd and say 'See that giant hunk over there? He's my partner. He's all mine, and no one else can have him.' "

Oliver closed his laptop. "Giant? I'll show you giant." He closed my laptop, too, and placed them both on the nightstand.

"Oh?" I said, raising my eyebrow. I was happy that even after this afternoon's slightly traumatic turn of events, we still couldn't keep our hands off of each other. I had, ever so briefly, thought that I'd lost him, that he'd leave me after being outed like that. Thankfully, we were stronger than that. I got out of the bed, and made sure the door was fully closed.

He had already started taking off his clothing. "You. Bed. Naked. Now." he said, wriggling out of his shorts and boxers. Oliver pulled me onto the bed while I was still undressing, and kissed me hungrily. I couldn't ever imagine there being a time when I didn't crave him this badly.

As he fucked me roughly, a combination of lust and desire, and aggression and frustration from the afternoon, all I could think was that this was what our bodies were made for. I existed solely as a conduit for Oliver's pleasure, as his body was made for mine.

We were like instruments in the philharmonic, tuned to exactly the same note, same frequency, playing a composition in perfect harmony. We'd played with other instrumentalists, for other conductors, but nothing sounded as perfect or as pure as when we were playing our music together. My body was an instrument for Oliver to play, and together, we were a symphony.

After, Oliver and I laid in bed, holding each other. I know Oliver was anxious about seeing responses to his post and his emails, but the real world could wait just a little bit longer for us to rejoin it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to keep the technology/Facebook references as accurate to 2007 as I can, but I've probably gotten some things wrong. I am pretty sure that statuses still had to start with "[Your name] is..." in 2007. I apologize if something is egregiously anachronistic :)
> 
> Your comments on the last chapter were all so lovely - thank you for all of the comments and continued support! I say this every chapter, but I really do appreciate everyone's support, and thank you for reading.


	49. Damage Control

_**POV: Ari, July 12, 2007** _

The past two days had been eventful, to say the least. Vic was a moron and accidentally posted pictures where Dad and Elio were kissing in the background, and we’ve been dealing with the fallout since then. Dad made a post explaining things, which seemed to quell things on his side for the most part, but Vic and I still had people reaching out to us. A few kids from school wrote some pretty nasty and homophobic things on my Facebook wall, but I quickly deleted the posts and blocked them from posting again. I’d become a pretty staunch defender of same-sex relationships over the past two days, to say the least, not that I wasn’t always supportive, but now I needed to be vocal about it. Vic experienced something similar - a few classmates of his (who I already thought were bullies) posted some mean things on his wall, and he came to me crying, so I took his laptop and deleted the comments for him.

Dad spent a long time on the phone yesterday with various relatives, like Mom’s closest cousin, Sharon, who lives in Seattle. Sharon was upset that Dad hadn’t told her about Elio before posting about it on Facebook, but she had already known about their history - Dad said she was the only one Mom had told in the past about Dad and Elio during their first summer. Sharon was the same age as Mom, and they were very close growing up, but ten years ago, Sharon’s husband Nathan got a job working for Microsoft in Washington, so they moved out to the west coast. I think the last few times I’d seen them had been at family Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. Sharon insisted on speaking with Elio alone, and I have no idea what they spoke about.

Today, Dad also got an angry phone call from Aunt Doris, who got the phone number of the villa from Sharon. We were all sitting in Professor Perlman's office, where there was a phone. I was on my laptop, doing more damage control on Facebook, and Aunt Doris was always so loud, so I could easily hear both sides of the conversation.

“Oliver, we heard from several Feinbergs that you have started dating someone again?”

“Yes, Doris, I am seeing someone. I was going to wait until I was back from Italy to tell everyone, but circumstances were beyond my control.”

“Oren said he heard from Nathan that you are dating A MAN?”

“I am, yes.”

“Have you thought about the disgrace that’ll bring to the family? Deborah dies and not even two years later, you are dating a man?”

Dad sighed away from the phone receiver before responding. “Doris, you may not like it, but it’s not a disgrace.”

“Agnes and I have been sitting here for hours racking our brains about this. Was Deborah not enough for you, that you had to cheat on her with a man?” Doris shouted.

“I loved Deb, you know that. I didn’t cheat on her. We had a wonderful life, a wonderful family together. But she’s gone, and she would want me to find love again. I love Elio, very much.”

Doris coughed into the phone. “Wait… Elio… was he the young man with the curly hair who teaches at Princeton, who I met at Victor’s Bar Mitzvah?”

“He’s not THAT young, but, yes, that’s him.” Elio looked up at Dad and stuck his tongue out at him.

“Were you already seeing him then, just a few months after Deborah died?”

“No, Doris, I was not. We got together this summer.”

Doris shouted something in the phone, to her sister, Aunt Agnes, who was clearly sitting across the table from her. “Have you always been gay?”

Dad sighed once again. This was probably the tenth time he’d had this conversation in the past two days. “I’m not gay.”

“But you are dating a man.”

“Do I really need to explain my sexuality to you, Doris? I am not gay, not that it should matter if I was. I am bisexual. That means that I am attracted to both men and women. I was attracted to Deb. We were married for eighteen years. I am now dating Elio.”

“He IS handsome… I could see why you’d be attracted to him...” Doris said into the phone. She paused for a moment, and continued. “Have you thought about how this will affect your children?”

Dad looked at me. “My children helped set me up with Elio. They are okay with it. The boys are my number one priority, and if they have a problem with me dating a man, or with Elio, I would have ended things immediately.”

Aunt Agnes shouted something inaudible (which was surprising, because you could usually hear her two towns over), and Doris repeated. “Agnes wants to know if he’s Jewish.”

I started laughing, and which caused Dad to stifle his own laughter. Of course they wanted to know if he was Jewish. To steal a word they use, they are such yentas. “Yes, Elio is Jewish. His last name is Perlman.”

“I thought he was Italian? He had said his father traveled to the Bar Mitzvah from Milan.”

“He is Italian. And French. And American. But both sides of his family are Jewish, don’t worry.”

“At least he’s Jewish. Where did he go to college?”

“Yale, for undergrad and graduate school.”

“So he’s bright, or rich. Either one is good. What do his parents do?” Was the next question going to be "why didn't he go to medical school or law school?"

“His father is a classics professor in Milan. Ari’s studying with him this summer. His mother is retired, but she was a translator - she speaks more languages than I can count.”

“Do you love him?” Aunt Doris was good at these blunt questions.

Dad smiled at Elio, and said, “Yes, I do, very much. He’s really wonderful, and I think you’d like him a lot. We’ll have you over for dinner in the fall on a weekend when Elio comes to visit.”

“He’s not going to move to Massachusetts?”

“Not right away, we’re going to see how things go first, when we’re back home. Remember that he’s a professor at Princeton? He already has classes scheduled for the fall. He’d need to find a teaching position in Boston before we could make any permanent decisions, and that could take a while.”

“How is he with the boys?”

“They both really like him. He spends a few hours a day with Vic, teaching him piano and music theory.”

“Oliver?” Aunt Doris said, softer than usual.

“Yes, Doris?”

“I don’t know if I really support this whole gay thing, but you sound happier than you’ve been in over a year, and I’m glad about that. Our rabbi does gay weddings now, just so you know. Let us know when you’re back home, so we can officially meet Elio again so we can make a better judgement in person. You’ll have us over for dinner?”

“Yes, we’ll be in touch and invite you and Agnes over. Maybe for Rosh Hashanah?”

“That sounds good. We’ll speak to you soon. Give Ariel and Victor a kiss from each of us.”

“Will do. Take care.”

Dad hung up the phone and collapsed into a chair. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said.

Elio stood behind him and massaged his shoulders. “That’s the aunt who wanted to set me up with her dental hygienist’s daughter who was in the tenth year of her PhD program at Rutgers?”

“That sounds like Aunt Doris and Aunt Agnes,” I said, chuckling. “Dad, do you want me to take the next call? I have the script memorized at this point.”

“No, I appreciate it though, thank you Ari.”

I opened Dad’s Facebook profile (I had finally accepted his friend request yesterday, but had it so that he couldn’t see anything I posted, not that he knows that), and looked at the new comments. They were pretty much all positive messages, which was shockingly heartwarming, that old people could be this accepting. The messages had cliche nonsense like “ **Yes! Live your truth**!”, but also messages like, “ **My brother is gay and has been with his wonderful partner for ten years - if you ever need a supportive ear to talk to, let me know.** ”

One message, from Vic’s friend Abigail’s mother, Trudy, was touching. “ **Hi Oliver. I know how hard life can be after the death of a spouse. After Dale died, I was heartbroken and inconsolable for months, and I can only imagine it was worse for you with Deb, since her death was an accident, and you weren’t mentally preparing yourself for months as the cancer progressed. Grief takes its toll, both mentally and physically, and moving on is hard, but it’s also a part of life. I still feel guilty that I’m dating someone new, and have a boyfriend now, but I know that Dale would have wanted me to move on with my life, and find someone who treats both me and Abigail well, and not spend the rest of my life in mourning. I knew Deb well, and I think she would have been the same way. I am very glad that you’ve found someone you love, and I hope Elio makes you happy. I’d love to meet him when you’re back home! I hope you are having a wonderful summer in Italy - the pictures that Abigail has shown me that Vic posted make it look like heaven on earth. Best, Trudy.** ”

Dad was typing away on his laptop, privately responding to more emails and Facebook messages. He started yawning. “I think I’m going to go take a nap before dinner, I don’t know how much more of this I can handle today.”

“I’ll go with you,” Elio said.

If they were done, so was I.

* * *

I went up to the attic to grab my book, and went to the living room, where Jasmine was lying on the couch, also reading. We had wanted to go swimming, but Vic had invited Elena over, and we didn’t want to interrupt them.

I sat down next to Jasmine, and she scooted closer to me, resting her head in my lap while we both read. We sat in silence for a long time, turning pages, listening to the whir of the fan. “What are you reading?” she asked after a while, keeping her finger in her book to remember her page.

“ _The Sun Also Rises_ , it’s one of my summer reading books for AP English Language and Composition. It’s boring so far.”

“What are you talking about? I loved that book! Brett was an early feminist icon!”

“I think I’d enjoy this more if I was sipping a mojito in a bar in Havana,” I said, laughing. “At least let me experience the real Hemingway if I have to read his boring books.”

“What, is a Negroni in the Italian countryside not good enough for you?” Jasmine said sarcastically.

“This summer here, with you, is perfect,” I said. “Other than maybe my dumb brother accidentally outing my father to the world, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Jasmine sat up and leaned in close. “You’ve been really great these past two days, helping your dad, trying to salvage a messy situation. I think he really appreciates all of the damage control you’ve been doing, trying to end the rumors that have been spreading. I’m sure this wasn’t how he wanted to go about telling everyone he knew that he’s publicly dating a man for the first time.”

I shook my head. “No, this was definitely not what he had planned. To be fair, I don’t think he ever planned on falling in love with Elio, either, but things happen for a reason, right?"

“You and your brother are so supportive of your dad - you’re such a close family, it’s so nice.”

I smiled at Jasmine. “I love my dad, and my brother. Most of the time. I think after my mom died, we realized that we’re all we’ve got, which brought us closer.”

She gave me a warm look, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. My hair was getting long and shaggy this summer. Jasmine rested her hand behind my neck, reached up and kissed me softly. I returned the kiss gently, wrapping my arms around her.

“Do you… want to take this to my bedroom?” she asked, smirking. I immediately stood up, and started heading there, praying we didn’t run into anyone on the short walk, because otherwise, they would all notice my erection. Jasmine definitely noticed already. The gym shorts I was wearing left nothing to the imagination.

* * *

We made out and fooled around for the better part of an hour. I lay next to Jasmine, completely naked, while she was in her t-shirt and her underwear. She was resting her head on my shoulder, playing with my chest hair.

“Jasmine, can I ask you a question? If this is offensive, tell me, and I promise I won’t ask it again.”

“Okay....” she said, unsure of where I was going. “Go ahead.”

“When we… when I… when you ask me to finger you, how come you never take off your clothes?”

Jasmine buried her face in my chest, trying to hide. “I… I’m embarrassed.”

“What are you embarrassed of? Do you have a terrible tattoo on your butt that you’re trying to hide from me?”

That made her laugh at least. “No… I’m embarrassed… of my body.”

“What? Why? You’re beautiful,” I said, running my hand down her arm.

“No I’m not. I’m fat, and I don’t want to scare you away after you see me naked. I have rolls of fat and stretch marks, and I promise they are not sexy or cute.”

“Jasmine… you are crazy. You are gorgeous, and you are not fat. Who cares if you’re not a size two? I am incredibly attracted to you.”

She took a deep breath and said, “Thank you, Ari. I’ve just… always been the fat kid, the chubby girl, the ‘chunky smart one’, and I still can’t even believe that you’ve given me the time of day.”

“Me? I can’t believe you’re willing to tolerate me! I’m a year younger than you and still in high school! I’m the one who’s reaching here. Well, not physically, I’m practically a foot taller than you… but metaphorically speaking. You are wonderful! You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, you’re more ambitious than anyone else I know, you’re nerdy as hell and it’s adorable, you’re weirdly nice to my little brother, you are stunningly beautiful, and to be crass for one second, you have really, really nice boobs.”

She smacked me on the shoulder. “Way to ruin a nice moment,” she said, giggling. "These boobs are the bane of my existence."

I sat quietly, trying to think of how to respond. “We can do whatever you want to do, whatever you feel comfortable with, whenever you want to do it. I would never pressure you into anything. If you don’t feel comfortable ever taking anything else off, then you don’t need to. But I’m just going to say, I really like being naked with you. You’re the only girl I’ve ever been naked around, at least since I was like two,” I said.

“I like you being naked, too. You are so hot,” Jasmine said, running her hand down my torso. I was getting hard again already.

I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing. “Do you see what you do to me?” Jasmine rolled on top of me, dry humping me while we made out some more. I wanted her so badly, but I also wanted to respect the boundaries she had drawn. When she was ready to extend the boundaries, I was ready, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now, the responses and phone calls have started pouring in and Oliver has to address everything individually. I decided to not actually show the negative posts Oliver/the boys would have received, and just mention them in passing. You can imagine the sorts of mean homophobic things teenagers would say.
> 
> Aunt Doris is based very much on an aunt of mine. I think every Jew (and probably everyone, in general) has an aunt like this. Nosy, pushy, involved in everyone's business, wants to be a matchmaker for everyone, stuck in their old ways, etc.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support!


	50. Getting Tested

_**POV: Oliver, July 13, 2007** _

Things were finally starting to calm down. Since I’d spoken with Deb’s Aunt Doris, I hadn’t received any more phone calls, and other than a few supportive emails from friends and cousins and colleagues saying that they were happy that I’d found someone, and some emails from Howie checking in on me, things were roughly back to normal. Or, whatever this new normal was now that everyone knew about Elio.

Everything in my life had always been so calculated, I always wanted to control every situation, everything that happened to me. Having to tell everyone I knew in one fell swoop about Elio definitely left me feeling vulnerable and raw. And not in the good way, like when Elio was topping me.

This whole ordeal made me appreciate how wonderful my sons are. I needed to start paying more attention to Vic, teaching him more about the real world. However, the boys had both been so wonderful and loving the past few days. When their classmates reached out and said some nasty things, they both defended me and handled themselves maturely. I was proud of Ari for the way he was teaching Vic to handle bullies.

The Perlmans had always been supportive of me from the start, but they had been especially great this week. Sammy had given us free reign of his office for the past few days, letting me use the telephone with the door closed, and make and receive phone calls. If my parents had been as open and caring as Elio’s parents were, my whole life would have turned out differently. Even Mafalda, who I think was still a bit uncomfortable with Elio and myself as a couple, saw how stressed out and nervous I’d been, and yesterday, surprised us with cookies. Elio said that he thinks his mother explained everything that had gone on.

Most of all, I was thankful for Elio, who both literally and figuratively had been holding my hand through this. I couldn’t have done any of this without him. To be fair, this was also because of him, but it was worth it. I could now spend the rest of my life with Elio, free to be public about our love. Rest of my life. I could picture a relationship with Elio that had no expiration date, that lasted forever. I knew he felt the same way. I’d only given him my Zayde’s watch two weeks ago, but we both knew that this was permanent. A weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. This liberated feeling was overwhelming, but amazing.

I had woken up before the alarm this morning, horny, thankful, and totally smitten, and I wanted to show Elio what he meant to me. I started nuzzling him, kissing his neck, trying to wake him up.

“Oliver, I don’t wanna run yet, it’s so early.”

“I know, the alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. Are you awake?”

Elio squinted at me, his eyes adjusting to being awake. “I am now. Is everything okay?”

“I just wanted to show you how much I love you, but I wanted to get your permission, first. Waking you up with a blow job sounds good in theory, but in practice there are some weird consent lines that make me feel uncomfortable.”

Elio raised his eyebrow, definitely more awake now. “A blow job, you say? I would sacrifice some sleep for that. I could never say no to a blow job from you. If you ever wanted to wake me up with one, I give you my full permission now. Waking up to you, with my cock in your amazing mouth… oh fuck, that sounds like the best possible way to wake up.”

I crawled to the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet off of Elio, and began kissing his stomach and thighs, eventually taking him all in once he was hard. I glanced at the alarm - I had fifteen minutes before it went off. I decided to take my time, and use all fifteen minutes on him. Between moans, he said, “Mm, Oliver, I want to do you, too, at the same time.”

I paused for a moment, and shook my head. “Nope. I want to focus on you right now,” I said, and licked his length once more.

After the alarm clock went off, we cuddled and kissed for a few minutes, before we threw on our gym clothes. As I tied my running shoes, we were talking about our plans for the day. Yesterday, Elio had made a couple of phone calls, and today, we were going to go see the doctor in town, and were going to get tested. “We’d still have to wait, but, we get tested now, we get tested again in three months, and then no more condoms. I can’t wait,” Elio said, kissing my cheek.

“Three months. We can wait three months,” I said.

“Until then, we will single-handedly keep the condom industry alive.”

“What can I say? You make me feel twenty-four again. I thought that my sex drive had just sort of waned over the years, but turns out, I was just waiting for you again.” I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, and added, “We can actually plan for three months in the future. I love that we have a foreseeable, long-term future.”

“I still can’t believe this is real, Oliver. You are here, at the villa, and we are together. You’ve told your family, your friends. I can hold your hand, kiss you in public. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, I still think it’s a dream. I think I need someone to pinch me, to show me that this is actually my life.” I playfully pinched his ass cheek, and he giggled. “Hey, I was joking.”

“Come on, I need to go grab Vic, and Ari is going to meet us by the door. We need to get going if we are going to run before it gets too hot today,” I said, standing up and stretching.

“You’re too hot today,” Elio said with a devilish grin.

“Save that for later, we really should get going,” I said, to which Elio responded with a frown.

* * *

During breakfast, Annella and Sammy told us that they had a surprise for us.

“What is it, maman?” Elio asked, as he peeled his soft-boiled egg. I loved that even when he spoke English to his parents, his parents were still ‘maman’ and ‘papa’. Even when he was being a brat, it always made it sound sweeter than my boys’ elongated “Daaa-aaaaad”.

“Well, we know that it’s been an emotionally draining week for you both, especially you, Oliver. Sammy and I were talking, and we thought it would be nice for the two of you to get away for the weekend, spend some time together, alone,” Annella said.

“Elio, I know you’ve always said how meaningful your trip to Rome was the last time, how it changed your life. I reserved you a suite at the same hotel you stayed at last time, for three nights, and we booked you first class tickets on the train. You can say no, it’s easy enough to cancel, but I thought it would be a nice surprise. You leave tomorrow, and return on Tuesday. Is this too much?”

Elio squeezed my hand and looked at me. “Do you want to go?” he asked.

“Sammy, Annella, please, this is way too much. We’re already going to Paris in a few weeks, you really didn’t have to do this. You are consistently too generous,” I said.

“Nonsense, Oliver. You’re family now,” Annella said.

“Well, thank you, I really appreciate this. This is so thoughtful of you both,” I said, sure I was blushing.

“We can watch the boys while you’re gone,” Sammy added.

Ari huffed. “Hey, I don’t need a babysitter, I’m seventeen. I can watch myself.”

“Fair enough,” Sammy said, with a chuckle. “We can watch Vic. Ari can watch himself.”

Vic shrugged, knowing full well that he would not survive a weekend without an adult’s help or supervision. “I was going to spend Sunday with Mrs. Perlman anyway, we were going to pick some of the beans and peppers she’s been growing this summer.”

Annella smiled at Vic. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to call me that, you can call me Annella.”

“So, what do you say,” Sammy asked.

Elio got up from his seat and went over to kiss his parents. “Thank you so much, maman, papa. Have I ever told you that you are the best?”

“Only once or twice, we don’t mind hearing it,” Annella said with a smirk.

When Elio sat back down, I asked, “So, how did our last trip to Rome change your life?”

He took another bite of his egg, and said, “Besides a bittersweet last few days with you? It was the book party. Everyone treated me like an adult, like I wasn’t just the kid in the room. The conversations were all so smart, so lively, and I was always included. Everyone seemed to know, and no one seemed to care, that we were together. It was the best night of my life. It showed me that this could be my life, I could be an academic, go to parties like that all the time, live my life openly.”

I kissed his cheek, still in disbelief that we could be sweetly affectionate like this, that our families supported us.

* * *

I sat in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, impatiently tapping my foot. I never loved going to the doctor, and getting tested always made me nervous. Needles always made me uncomfortable. They called my name first. “Elio, can you come in with me?” I asked.

“Why?” he asked, closing the magazine he was thumbing through.

“What if I need a translator? And also, I really, really do not like getting my blood drawn.”

“Are you afraid of needles?!? Okay, I’ll come with,” he said, following me into the room. He said something in Italian to the nurse, who nodded. Elio interpreted for me as the nurse asked me some questions in Italian. After some basic demographic questions, she went through a checklist of questions.

“How many sexual partners have you had in the past year?” he translated.

“Two,” I responded, quickly. “But I’ve used protection every time,” I said, allowing Elio to translate.

“Have you ever paid for sex?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve never paid for sex.”

“Do you sleep with members of the same or opposite gender?”

“In the past year, both, but now, only one man. One, monogamous partner.” Elio smiled at me and nodded. We’d never actually had a talk about that, but it was understood that we were not going to sleep with anyone else.

“Can you describe your last sexual encounter? Was it oral, vaginal, anal? Was any contraception used?”

I smirked at Elio. “A few hours ago, this handsome guy bent me over and had his way with me in the shower. It was anal, and we used a condom. I came so hard I thought I was going to black out,” I said.

The nurse started to giggle before Elio could translate a much less crude version of what I said. I started to turn pink. “My English is not perfect, but I know some things,” she said. I was fully embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, I have heard it all. This is still easier for me in Italian, if you don’t mind having him translate?” I nodded, and let Elio continue.

“Do you take any drugs? Any of them intravenously?”

“Other than pot once, a few days ago, no drugs in years. Never anything intravenous.”

The nurse took my vitals, and then pricked my finger for an HIV test. “This should be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Elio translated for me. She then took out a large elastic to use as a tourniquet.

“Ugh, I can’t look,” I said. Elio sat on my right side, holding my hand.

“You’re a big baby, you know that,” Elio said, trying to keep me occupied while she dug around, looking for a blood vessel.

“What, this makes me feel queasy,” I said. I breathed heavily, trying not to hyperventilate or pass out. I'd passed out once before while having blood drawn, and it always becomes such a big spectacle.

“Finito!” the nurse said, putting a bandage in the crease of my elbow.

“Was that so bad?” Elio asked.

“It wasn’t great,” I said.

The nurse handed me a cup and told me to go pee in it and bring it back to her. She then said, in English, “Ask the receptionist for a juice box - we keep those for children. It might make you feel better.”

Elio burst out into laughter, as I sheepishly walked out of the room to provide my sample. “Elio, do you want me to stay in here for you?”

“If you want to, but you don’t have to. I’m an adult and can get my blood drawn without someone holding my hand,” he said jokingly.

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the waiting room, then.”

Elio met me in the waiting room ten minutes later, and squeezed my hand. We waited for our HIV test results - they would call us early next week with the other results. We both said we would go into the room together to discuss the results. We had barely sat back down in the exam room before the nurse told us that we had both tested negative. Once we had the results of our other tests, as long as we had no new partners in the next three months (which we both knew that we wouldn’t), and tested negative once more on all of the tests, we’d have passed the window period, and could safely begin having sex without contraception. Until then, we should keep using condoms, and she said that we should be using contraception for any type of sex, including oral. She showed us a basket with free condoms. Elio took a handful when the nurse turned around, and threw them into his backpack.

When we left the office, Elio pushed me against the wall of the building and kissed me. “What was that for?” I asked.

“I love you, that’s all,” he said, kissing my neck. “Three months, and then you can finally come inside me. I’ve been wanting you to do that.”

I sighed loudly, thinking about finally making love, with no barriers between us. “I hate using condoms for oral sex,” I said. “We already haven’t been, so I think I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Me, too,” he said.

“Why don’t we go back to the villa and help keep the condom industry afloat for another three months?”

“I’ll race you back,” he said, walking toward his bicycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make the STI testing realistic, but I don't really know how it goes in other countries, so if something is totally wrong, let me know and I'll make a correction. Also, I'm not sure if the rapid HIV tests were around in 2007, but we're pretending they were...
> 
> I thought it would be good to show them getting tested together. Even in difficult or awkward moments, they support each other, and do things together, for each other. Also, I thought it would be funny if Oliver was a little bit afraid of needles/going to the doctor.
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments, as always.


	51. Roman Holiday, Part One

_**POV: Elio, July 13-14, 2007** _

Last night, Oliver and I packed a small suitcase each to take on our trip. It was so incredibly kind of my parents to surprise us with a romantic getaway like this. Before bed, I took him down to the living room and played piano for him.

“This is an early draft, but do you want to hear what I’ve been working on? I still don’t love composing as much as I love playing and teaching, but I can’t teach if I don’t publish, so this is where I’m at.”

Oliver smiled and sat down on the couch. “I’m all ears,” he said.

“That’s a lot of ears, then,” I said, laughing.

I played him the piece that I’d been composing in our office the past week or so. He usually can’t hear what I play, because my headphones are connected to the keyboard. Once I was finished playing, Oliver stood up and started clapping. I went over to him, and wrapped my arms around him. “What did you think?” I asked.

“That was beautiful,” he said, kissing me softly. “It was happier than the other pieces you've written. I love when you play for me. I’m in love with a handsome and wonderfully talented man.”

He took my hand, leading me toward the staircase. That was when I noticed my parents standing in the doorway. Neither of us had seen them there. My father was standing behind my mother, resting his head on her shoulder, with his arms wrapped around her waist. “How long were you there?”

“We heard you playing and came down to listen, but it seemed like a private moment so we didn’t want to interrupt,” my father said.

“But the song was so beautiful, we couldn’t really stop listening,” my mother said. “That new piece was lovely. Is that what you’ve been working on this summer?”

“I started writing that one last week,” I said.

“We're sorry for bothering you. We won’t keep you any longer. Good night, boys,” my father said.

“Good night,” I said, giving each of my parents a kiss on the cheek as I went upstairs, Oliver following closely behind.

* * *

After our run the next morning, Oliver joked around with his sons. “I hope that you’ll both keep up the running for the next three days while we’re gone.”

“Nice try, Dad. If you get a vacation, so do we. Maybe I can finally sleep in this summer. I can’t believe you even make us do this on weekends,” Ari complained.

“Fitness doesn’t sleep. It’s easier to get in shape when you’re young and keep it up, than it is to start getting into shape when you’re older." I thought that was a slight at me, but I ignored it. "I don’t want you to have the same health problems that your grandfather had.”

“Three mornings of extra sleep is good for our health, too,” Vic said, sweetly. Sometimes I thought he put on the naivete and sweetness, because it worked like a charm, but I realized that was just how the boy was.

“Let’s get back to the villa,” I said. “It’s la Fête nationale, and my mother takes over the cooking for the day and makes some amazing French food. I’m sad we won’t be here tonight - last year, she made a fantastic coq au vin.”

“La Fête nationale?” Vic asked.

“Oh, you know it as Bastille Day,” I said, forgetting for a moment how American they were.

“We learned about Bastille Day in history class last year! We re-enacted the storming of the Bastille as a class project - it was fun!” Vic said, excitedly.

“Does this involve French pastries?” Ari asked.

I nodded. “The works. She goes all out.”

We jogged back to the villa, ready to start our day.

As expected, my mother had taken over the kitchen, relieving Mafalda of her duties for the day. My mother insisted that Mafalda, Manfredi and Anchise join us at the main table for breakfast, and served a variety of crepes. For the boys and myself, banana and Nutella, and for everyone else, goat cheese and spinach. My mother had also put croissants and a baguette on the table, probably to play up the French for Jasmine, Vic and Ari. When my father arrived at the table, he was wearing a beret. “Too much?” he asked, laughing, putting it on the table next to him. Vic reached across the table and grabbed it.

“Can I wear it?” he asked. My father chuckled and nodded, and Vic put the hat on. “Bonjour! Oui! Frere Jacques! Baguette! Nicolas Sarkozy!” Vic said, rattling off the French words he knew, in an exaggerated French accent. "Sorry, am I being offensive?"

"No, sweetheart, it's cute," my mother said, beaming at him. I think she loved the boys as much as Oliver did. "I've been trying to get Sammy to get rid of that hat for ages, you should keep it. Here, give me your camera, let me take a picture," she said. Vic posed in the beret, and Ari and Jasmine waved the French flags my mother had put out on the table. My mother then took a picture of Oliver and me - I placed my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me.

"We're not bringing a computer with us, so we won't have access to our email, but Elio will have the cell phone. If you need anything, call the cell, Annella will give you the number," Oliver said to his sons. "Vic, please look carefully at what you're posting on Facebook this time? And if Elena comes over, make sure you keep your door open."

Ari snickered, and Oliver said, "And you. No special brownies, and please try not to drink too much while I'm not here? And please try working on your personal statement for your college applications?"

"Yes, Dad," Ari said.

"Have a great time! I'm jealous that you're going to Rome," Vic said.

"I'm not so sure they'll actually be seeing much of anything," Ari whispered audibly to Jasmine, who playfully smacked him on the arm.

"I'm sure you'll be back here plenty, we'll take you one day," Sammy said. Oliver squeezed my shoulder after my father said that.

I had to stop the tears that were pooling in my eyes. My parents were predicting a long future for Oliver and me. I couldn't even express how much that meant to me.

* * *

I took a nap on the train, resting my head on Oliver's arm while I held his hand. He seemed tense, and I knew he was still trying to be comfortable being affectionate with me in public. It would take him some time, but I appreciated his effort. "I love you, Oliver," I said, when I awoke from my nap, to him gently rubbing my arm.

"I love you, too," he said with a toothy grin.

"When did you first realize that you loved me?" I asked him, as I ran my thumb along the top of his hand.

"When you played the piano for me, the Bach variations. You didn't even realize you were flirting, and you kept trying to impress me by changing the rhythm or the melody slightly. You didn't know just how talented you were, what you were doing to me, with your sidelong glances and the way you spoke to me. I was hopelessly smitten, and I was scared of how I was feeling, so I needed to keep my distance. I'm glad you were the brave one. What about you?"

"The moment you walked out of that cab, all blond and tanned and self assured. I was scared by how much I was immediately taken with you. At first, I just brushed it off as jealousy, an obsession. Everything you did irked me. The flippant way you spoke, your self confidence, how good you looked in those short shorts, your cavalier American ways. But when we went dancing, I was watching you, and you danced with such abandon, without a worry or a care, like you didn't care what anyone else thought. I realized I didn't want to be you. I wanted to be with you. What I was feeling was attraction, and love, and I was finally putting it together. I was painfully in love, and I had to tell you soon or I'd regret it my entire life."

Oliver kissed the top of my head. "Well, I'm glad you did, I'm so happy we're together now. You were quite the dancer that day, too. I was impressed by your moves. I wished we could have danced together then."

"Let's go out dancing tonight, then," I said with a smirk.

Oliver raised his eyebrow. "Really? You want to go dancing?"

"With you, any time."

"You don't think we'd get threatened or hurt if we went to a club and danced together? Not to mention, I'm ancient," Oliver said apprehensively.

"No, I don't think anything would happen to us, but we can go to a gay club if you're worried. It's Saturday night, I know of a place. You are not too old to go dancing, I promise," I said.

"What am I getting myself into?" he asked, resting his head against mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is short - I'm trying to get the whole chapter just right, but I wanted to get something out, so I figured I'd post it in shorter bits.
> 
> As always, your support means everything. You are all the best.


	52. Roman Holiday, Part Two

_**POV: Elio, July 14, 2007** _

We took a cab to the hotel, and I negotiated in perfect Italian with the driver before he tried to rip us off. We didn't have the same room as last time, but we did have another room with a small balcony that overlooked a courtyard (though this time my father didn't give us the pretense of two rooms - they knew we were sleeping together instead of pretending not to know). On the dresser was a bottle of white wine on ice, with a note that it was provided by my parents. I put the bottle in the fridge for later. "This whole trip was so thoughtful of them," I said. "I don't think I know anyone whose parents would pay for a romantic getaway for their son and his same sex partner."

Oliver stood behind me, nuzzling my neck and squeezing me tightly. "You're their only child, and they love you. Then again, I was my parents' only child, and they would never have done this for me. You are the luckiest person in the world."

"I am now, because I have you," I said, turning around to kiss him. As we kissed, we started tearing off each other's clothes, wasting no time. I broke away from the kissing for a moment to open my backpack and grab the box of condoms, the bottle of lube and a towel from the bathroom - better to have everything now than when we were too far in the moment.

Once we were fully naked, I threw the towel down on the couch, and pushed him down, straddling him. There was not an inch between us - my whole body was touching his, my chest against his chest, my hardness poking at his stomach. We kissed for a very long time, knowing we had all the time in the world to just explore each other's bodies this weekend. “I need you inside of me,” I whispered into his ear, as I kissed his neck and nibbled on his earlobe. We hadn't made love since last night, before we went to bed, and this was the longest drought we'd had since getting back together. 

Oliver reached over for the lube, slicked his fingers, and slid two inside of me at once, causing me to moan uncontrollably. I pressed further against him, needing to be in contact with as much of him as possible, as his fingers explored. Eventually, I grabbed a condom wrapper and tore it open. “Subtle,” he said, kissing me quickly before slowly removing his hand and sliding the condom on. After adding more lube, I slid myself on top of him, riding him slowly. I loved this position - I was in control, he was inside of me, I had easy access to his whole body, and we could kiss the whole time. This was perfect.

“I love this, Oliver,” I said, slowly rolling my hips, taking him all in, letting him fill me up. He held me tight, running a hand along my back, sending chills down my spine. He reached between us with his previously slicked hand, and started gently stroking my cock while he kissed me. Oliver and I started letting ourselves go, moving our bodies in rhythm.

We were unusually unguarded, and quite loud (what else were hotels for?). I was surprised by how forcefully I came across his stomach and chest when he thrust and hit me at just the right spot, waves of pleasure rushing through me. He climaxed soon after, his head buried against my shoulder, moaning loudly.

"We can order room service and spend the next three days just doing that over and over," I said, as I stood up, using the towel to clean us both off.

"I wouldn't say no to that," Oliver responded, standing up and stretching his legs. "But I thought you wanted to go dancing tonight?"

"I do, I want to show you off to the world, make everyone incredibly jealous of my man. I want to take you out for dinner tonight, too. Tonight, I'm taking you out on a date."

Oliver grinned and squeezed my hand. "I haven't actually been to a gay bar since grad school. And I always went by myself, I never wanted my friends to know where I was going, obviously, I was always so ashamed, but I didn't know how else to meet men. I usually got picked up pretty quickly, so I never stayed that long."

I laughed. "Of course you did, I'm sure every eye was on you as soon as you walked in the room. It's hard for you to be inconspicuous, between your height and your Greek God looks." I appreciated that he let me in on snippets of his past, even stories he once found shameful.

"I go sometimes, if I'm going out with gay friends in New York or in Philadelphia. Now I only want to go anywhere if I'm with you," I said. "Let's get dressed and go explore, we can go see a few things before dinner."

I went to the backpack, pulled out a bag of macarons my mother packed for us, and handed one to Oliver. "Your mom is a surprisingly good cook," Oliver said, with crumbs sticking to the crease of his mouth. I ran my thumb along his lips, removing the crumbs.

"She definitely did not make these. Mafalda did. But she is pretty good when she tries."

I dug around my suitcase for a button down shirt and nice slacks, which would work at both dinner and the club. Oliver chose a similar outfit, and went into the bathroom. I ran my fingers through my hair once, figuring the curls would just fall where they wanted to. Oliver, on the other hand, combed his hair, slicking it slightly back. "I wanted to look good for our date," he said as he emerged from the bathroom, dressed and groomed, checking out his reflection once more.

"You always look good," I said, standing behind him and wrapping my arms around him. "Let's get going," I said, taking his hand.

* * *

We walked the streets of Rome, hand in hand. It pleased me that no one batted an eye, which I think made Oliver feel more comfortable. The first place I took him was a university bookstore (not the same one as from the book party).

"I'm shocked that Elio Perlman would bring me to a bookstore on a date!" Oliver said jokingly.

"This is where I bought a copy of your most recent book translated into Italian," I said. I took him to the philosophy section, and found his book on Heraclitus (which I obviously already owned, in English and Italian). I hailed an employee and asked if she had a pen. "He's the author, he's going to sign the book," I told the worried associate. I gave it to Oliver and told him to sign the book for the person who buys it. He wrote in English:

**May this book lead you to the love of your life, as it's led me to mine.**

**Oliver Morgenstern**

"Can you write the Italian translation below it?" he asked, handing me the book and the pen. I translated for him, closed the book, and put it back on the shelf.

We were alone in the aisle, so I pressed him against the bookcase and kissed him hungrily. A few books fell to the floor, and we giggled and put them back on the shelf.

"Am I really the love of your life?" I asked. Oliver nodded silently. "What about Deb? You were together for so long, had two wonderful children together."

"I did love her. She was a great wife, we had a pleasant life together, but it was a marriage of convenience. We took good care of each other, and enjoyed each other's company, but I think some of it was for the boys' benefit. She always felt like she wasn't enough for me, which is why she let me sleep with men, encouraged an open sexual relationship. But, we never had the passion, the fire, the total love and devotion that you and I had back then, and still have now. I never stopped feeling this way about you, throughout my marriage, and I think when I did sleep with men, I was chasing what we had, and never found it, because no one was ever you. So, yes, you, Elio Perlman, are the love of my life."

I took his hand and held it tightly. "I think you know that you are the love of my life, too. As much as I tried to tell myself that someone had eclipsed you, I only ever thought about you. I think you ruined me for other people, so I'm really glad you've come back to me, into my life. I love you so fucking much."

I felt like melting into a puddle of pure happiness when Oliver looked me in the eyes, a look of such adoration and desire and love filling his face. I had fallen so hard for him, even worse than last time. When I was seventeen, I let myself get invested, but I knew he was leaving me at the end of the summer. Now, we had a future together, one he'd risked his family, friends and career for (though, it seemed he wouldn't really lose any of it). He'd risked everything for me, and I was eternally grateful. If he were to change his mind and leave me, I didn't think I would ever recover. But for now, and forever, I was hopelessly entrenched in our romance.

I decided in that moment that when we got home, I was going to start sending emails and making calls about doing a visiting professorship somewhere in Boston in the spring, so we could be together full time. It was too late for fall. Maybe Harvard would take me, a few years ago they'd tried to poach me from Princeton but I had turned them down. I hoped I could take a visiting position and turn it into a hired, full time position next fall. I needed to be with Oliver, the thought of doing long distance permanently was giving me horrible anxiety, and I was willing to give up a job I loved to be with him - he wasn't going to make this decision for me this time. I also wasn't going to tell him until I had something lined up, and would surprise him with it.

"Everything okay?" he asked, wrapping his arms around me.

"Everything is perfect."

* * *

I took him for dinner at a restaurant in the Jewish quarter that I ate at with my parents a few years ago, that I remembered having excellent carciofi alla Giudia, a Jewish Roman specialty of deep fried artichokes. My mother's ancestors had lived in squalor confined in the Jewish ghettos of Rome, and I wanted to show Oliver a bit of my family's history. When we arrived at the restaurant, the waiter smiled when he noticed both of our necklaces.

Over our shared meal and a bottle of wine, we talked about what we wanted to see during the rest of the trip, as well as our plans for Paris. "When we get back, will you listen to my presentation?" he asked. "It's the biggest conference I've been invited to, and I'm nervous I'm going to make a fool of myself."

"You should probably ask my father to listen, too, because I'll have a hard time being critical of you, but of course I'll listen. I can't wait to see you in front of the crowd." 

After dinner, we went to a bar for another cocktail before heading to the club. "If you feel uncomfortable, we don't have to go," I said.

"No, I'm a cocktail and a half a bottle of wine into the night, I don't think I'm going to chicken out now," Oliver said, sipping his drink. “Not that I need to be drunk to be with you, but I need some alcohol to make me dance. You saw how horribly I danced at the Bar Mitzvah.”

I smiled at him. “You weren’t horrible, you were adorable. And anyway, I doubt we’ll be doing the hora or the Electric Slide tonight.”

Eventually, we made our way to a dance club I’d been to once in the past. Before we went inside, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of Oliver’s shirt. “Show off that chest hair,” I said playfully. I paid the cover for Oliver and myself, and we went inside.

Oliver and I went to the bar, and he ordered us shots. “L’chaim” he said, clinking his shot glass against mine before taking the shot quickly. I grabbed his hand, and dragged him to the center of the dance floor. It was already packed, full of sweaty men of all ages dancing together in various states of (un)dress. I started dancing, as Oliver looked around the room apprehensively. “I don’t know about this,” he shouted at me.

“Relax, it’ll be fun. Give it a few songs. After that, if you’re still feeling uncomfortable, we’ll go back to the hotel,” I said. He nodded, and I started dancing. By the end of the song, Oliver was dancing with me (well, across from me), moving his hands around goofily. “Is this so bad?” I asked.

He shook his head, and started to smile. A few songs in, I wrapped my arms around him, and we were grinding against each other. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. I unbuttoned his shirt fully so I could run my hands along his newly exposed chest while we danced, and he squeezed my ass, pulling me in closer. As the music thumped, I angled my head upward so I could kiss him. We made out this way, grinding and rubbing and squeezing, for a few songs. We didn’t care who was watching, who saw, we just wanted, needed each other. Oliver was freer than I’d ever seen him be in a public place, and I was enjoying every horny, drunken minute of it.

Most of the songs were European club songs that we were not familiar with, but we were still having a great time. Oliver turned me around, started grinding against my behind, while he wrapped his arms around my waist. He started kissing my neck, as I bent over slightly, rubbing against him to the rhythm of the music. I could feel how hard he was as he pressed against my thigh, and it was turning me on so much. A few minutes later, I turned around to face him again, and pressed against him as we danced. Suddenly, a combination of hormones and alcohol gave me a great idea. “I want to suck your cock,” I shouted at him.

“What?” he screamed, as he danced.

“Come with me,” I said, grabbing his hand. “I want your long, hard cock in my mouth, right now.” He definitely heard that. I think a few people dancing near us heard, too. The couple dancing next to us gave me a thumbs up. We walked through the crowded club, hand in hand, looking for a closet or a room. I’m pretty sure that most people we passed sized up Oliver, ogling him, and I hope they were all jealous of what I was about to do.

I saw someone walk out of a storage closet, carrying a case of liquor, so we stood in the hallway, waited for them to pass by, then snuck into the room. I dragged Oliver inside, closed the door, and said, “Unzip your pants. Now.”

He did as I requested, but said, “What if someone walks in?”

“Then someone sees you getting a spectacular blow job from your amazing partner, who makes sure your every need is met,” I said with a smirk.

“How can I say no to you?” he said, and I unbuttoned his pants, pulling them to his ankles. I noticed he was wearing another pair of my boxers.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you were wearing those. This is the second time I’ve given you a blowjob mid-date and saw it too early,” I said, pulling the boxers down, too. I had planned on making this quick and dirty, but I changed my mind. “I did promise you some life-changing oral sex whenever you wore my clothes…”

Oliver was already hard again, so I got on my knees, grabbed his length, and meticulously began licking every square inch, flicking my tongue at his tip. He leaned against a wall for support, using his other hand to play with my hair. I licked my finger, and teasingly ran circles around his entrance with my index finger. We didn’t have lube so I wasn’t going to enter him, but I was determined to give him a mind-blowing orgasm, and I wanted to drive him crazy. I slowly bobbed my head, taking in as much of him as I could, and used my free hand to stroke him. “Ohhhh, that feels amazing,” he muttered, as we made eye contact. A few minutes later (shockingly few, given the alcohol we’d consumed), he dug his fingers into my scalp and said, “Elio, I’m close.” If we were back at the hotel, I would have encouraged him to come on my face, on my chest, on my stomach, anywhere he wanted. Instead, I kept the steady pace, egging on his pleasure. He yelped out as he came, and I devoured every last drop. I licked him clean for good measure, and stood up.

“Ready to go back and dance some more?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not yet, there’s something that I need to do first,” Oliver said.

“Oh? And what would that be?” I asked. He pulled up the boxers and his pants and quickly zipped himself up, buttoned the slacks, and closed his belt.

“I can’t leave you hanging like this,” he said. He looped his thumb in my belt loop, pulling me in close. I took the hint, and undid my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and pulled them down.

“I’m sorry I wore boxers today,” I said, as he tugged them down. Oliver got on his knees, and wrapped his lips around my length. He slowly began sucking me, taking me all in. I gripped either side of the shelf behind me, closing my eyes as he pleasured me. “Oliver…” I moaned, enjoying every sensation. He knew exactly how to get me off, and quickly. Soon, I came in his mouth, muttering incoherently. Oliver stood up and grinned. “Now I’m ready to go back and dance some more.”

I got dressed, kissed Oliver’s cheek, and took his hand, ready to head back to the dance floor. As we walked out of the supply closet, a bartender walked in. I smiled at him as we walked by, and Oliver giggled, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, and he said, “Excuse me.”

“Do you think he knows what we were doing?” Oliver asked.

“He definitely knows. And definitely doesn’t care,” I said, leaning into him as we headed to the dance floor.

Now that we were both momentarily sated, we danced joyfully, shaking our hips, pounding our fists, and jumping up and down. Dancing with Oliver was exactly what I had imagined it would be like twenty years ago, and I was glad we got to do it now. I was getting sweaty, so I unbuttoned my shirt. While I looked like I had a bottle of water poured on my head, Oliver was glistening, and everyone around us had noticed. We danced more, we kissed more, and stayed out for hours.

When we decided to leave the club, we buttoned up our shirts most of the way and walked back to our hotel. I took him through a circuitous route, wanting to take him to the spot where we had our most meaningful kiss. “Do you know where we are?” I asked him softly.

He looked around, and pushed me against the wall. “Of course I do, I remember everything,” he said, pinning me back and kissing me passionately. I wrapped my leg around his, and let my hands and arms explore his back. The last time, the kiss screamed of finality. This time, it filled me with the promise of an eternity.

“I love you,” I said between kisses. Once I started saying it, I couldn’t stop. I needed Oliver to know that he was my one and only, and that there never was, never would be anyone else who made me feel the way he did. I would never tire of telling him that I loved him, and I would never stop loving him.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” Oliver said, kissing me one more time. I nodded, wrapped my arm around his waist, and led the way, this time, finding the quickest route possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've got another couple of fluffy chapters left in me for the Rome vacation, but we'll switch to Oliver's POV.
> 
> I'm going to take a couple of days off, I think (I know I always say that, and then post something anyway) - I have a deadline at work this week so I'm probably going to be doing a lot of work at home and won't have time to write :( Should be back on track by the weekend. Hopefully this tides you over until then <3
> 
> You are the best readers ever, and the best fandom ever.


	53. Complete Symbiosis, Part One

_**POV: Oliver, July 15, 2007** _

I was constantly amazed by the spell that Elio had me under. One pout of those perfectly kissable lips, and I was like putty in his hands. Not only had he convinced me to go dancing with him at a gay club, but he’d gotten me to sneak into a supply closet for some fantastic oral sex (Elio seriously deserved all of the awards and accolades possible for his oral techniques. He was so talented at everything he did, but his blow jobs in particular were top notch). The Oliver Morgenstern of a month ago would never have done either of those things, but with Elio, I was willing to try anything, do anything, bend at whatever whim would make him happy.

Dancing, and grinding, and kissing for hours on the dance floor, with others in full view, was a new experience for me, but I didn’t mind the voyeurism of it. Elio is a handsome devil, and I wanted everyone to know that he was mine and mine alone. I could feel jealous eyes as we traipsed through the club. We were the couple that every other duo wished they could be.

When we got back to the hotel room, I was overcome with emotion. I scooped Elio into the tightest hug I could muster, and rest my chin on the top of his head, taking in his smell. I kept him in the embrace for a few minutes.

“Oliver, is everything okay?” Elio asked, placing his hand under my shirt and on the small of my back, rubbing small circles.

I nodded, holding back a few sniffles, preventing myself from becoming a blubbering mess. “Me okay,” I said jokingly stealing his refrain, which made Elio chuckle. “I’m just overwhelmed, with everything, in a good way. I love you so, so much, and it’s difficult to process how much has changed, for the better, in the past two weeks. Our lives are going to be completely different from now on, and we’re going to do it together.”

Elio ran his hand up my back, holding me tight. “Together. We can do anything, everything, together.” He put his head on my shoulder and sighed. “It is kind of crazy that we went from angrily ignoring each other to making love at least six times a day over the course of a few days,” he said, laughing.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so delicious, I keep needing to go back for seconds and thirds.”

I released Elio from my tight grasp, and started walking toward the king-sized bed, sitting down on the edge. Elio followed and sat down next to me, kicking off his shoes. “Are you okay with how quickly everything has happened, with your family and friends knowing about me?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” I said, kissing his forehead. I really, truly was. I didn’t want to hide anymore, and I’d stopped caring (as much) about what others thought. Now I just wanted them to see Elio the way I saw him - handsome, smart, kind, giving, and sexy as hell.

“This… didn’t affect your job security, did it?” Elio asked.

“No, I’m pretty sure my job is secure. In fact, I got an email asking if I wanted to be a faculty adviser for the Tufts LGBT Center - something about lacking in bi representation, especially among male faculty, and that I’d be a perfect face for their brochures. I haven’t responded to that email yet.”

Elio started laughing. “If your face was on their brochures, I’m pretty sure any meetings would be packed to the brim of people trying to sneak a glimpse at you.”

“Stop it, they’d just ask who the old guy was and how he accidentally wound up there,” I said. “They’d need to photoshop out some of the grey over here,” I added, pointing to the sparse grey and white hairs that had sprouted several years ago along my temples.

"You barely notice it, between your already light hair and the fact that there are like three of them. It makes you look distinguished," Elio said, running his thumb along my temple, gently grazing the aforementioned grey hairs. "I'd rather go grey than lose my hair, anyway. You can dye hair but you can't really regrow it. Be happy you still have most of your hair."

He had a point. My hairline had been imperceptibly receding since my thirties, but it hadn't really lost its volume. I ran my fingers through his still thick head of curls and sighed loudly.

"But, if you did lose your hair, I would still find you sexy as hell," Elio added, in an attempt to assuage my vanity.

"Tonight was really fun. I haven't been able to let loose like that in ages. I didn't think I'd enjoy the club - I was going so I could humor you - but I had a really good time."

"I had a really nice time, too. We've never been able to dance together before, I definitely want to do that again."

"Well, we've got Sharon's daughter Leah's Bat Mitzvah later this year, and I assume you'll be invited with me. We can cut a rug on the dance floor then, but probably not in the same way we did tonight." I said with a smirk.

Elio nodded. "She wants to meet me, or at least more than just in passing like at Vic's Bar Mitzvah, so I think I'd be invited with you. I never told you what she said to me when we talked, did I?"

I shook my head. "Sharon said that Deb was always afraid you were going to leave her for me. Deb was never worried about other women or men, only about me. Sharon interrogated me much in the same way Deb's aunt Doris did to you, but in a less... bigoted way. I think she wanted to make sure that this was the real deal, that I loved you as much as Deb thought you had loved me. She said that Deb loved my family, was appreciative of all that they'd always done for you, but that if I ever hurt you, or Ari, or Vic, she'll murder me."

"That sounds about right, Sharon was always protective of Deb, they grew up like sisters. I think I always knew that she knew about me, that Deb had confided in her, but she never let anything on until this week,” I said.

“She said that she’s been emailing with Vic since Deb died, and that he’d been talking about me a lot since the Bar Mitzvah. Sharon wanted to make sure that I wasn’t using Vic to get closer to you,” Elio said.

“And were you?” I asked squeezing his shoulder. I knew he wouldn’t have.

“Of course not, Oliver. He reached out to me about music, and we developed a real rapport. Obviously I thought about you in that you raised him, and there is a lot of your personality in him, but I would never use him to get to you,” Elio said, resting his head on me.

“I was joking, I knew you would never do that,” I said, running my fingers through his hair. “It’s funny you say he reminds you of me, because there are plenty of times where I’ll see him hunched over his desk, or at the piano, and he reminds me of you. Sometimes I wonder if I molded him that way, subconsciously, or if he developed that way on his own.”

“What do you mean?” Elio asked.

“Deb and I had both Ari and Vic start piano lessons when they were about four years old. Ari took it as a chore, Vic took to it immediately and fell in love. Vic has always been so sweet, and affectionate, and better with adults than with other children, and has that uncontrollable wavy hair, and seeing him around you now, part of me wonders if I encouraged these traits... well not the hair, but the personality... that I was trying to have you with me when you couldn’t be with me.”

“I think it’s just a coincidence, Oliver. I think you see what your heart wants to see. He’s a great kid - Ari is too, for that matter - and I’m flattered that all of these wonderful things about him remind you of me. Obviously Ari is a lot like you, in looks and personality, but there’s a lot about Vic that I think he gets from you. His warmth, his perfectionism, how kind he is to everyone, that he takes the time to help out around the villa without being asked. When he was playing with Noemie the other day, I couldn’t help but think about the way you were with Vimini.”

I looked Elio in the eyes. They were full of love and warmth, and I knew that i’d made the right decision, coming clean about our relationship to everyone I knew. I never wanted to be with anyone else. “I love you, Elio.”

Elio rested his hand at the nape of my neck and kissed me gently, letting his lips linger as he slowly pulled away. “Did you know that when you visited the villa with Deb, when the boys were young, that Deb sat down with my parents for a long time and talked about you and me? Sharon told me that during our conversation. My parents never told me about that.”

“No, they seem like they’d be respectful and keep a conversation secret,” I said. “I had no idea. What did they talk about, did she know?”

“She didn’t give me the specifics of the conversation, but said that Deb always thought that my parents were lovely and treated the family well, so Sharon thought if I was anything like my parents, then you are probably in good hands.”

“I’m in the best hands. The only hands I want to be in are yours,” I said, as Elio smirked at me with his closed-mouth half smile that years ago had made me realize how difficult he was making things for me.

We kissed again, slowly, sensually, much different from the drunk and horny kisses on the dance floor several hours ago. The kisses were soft, and easy, and quiet, and were filled with such love and devotion. I very slowly, very carefully began unbuttoning his shirt, not breaking the kiss for a moment. My fingers lingered on each button as I felt my way to the next one. When the shirt was fully opened, I slid it off of his shoulders, tossing it to the floor. Then, I gently ran my hands over his chest and stomach, aching to feel his skin under my touch. Elio was impatient and began opening my shirt as well. “Slow down,” I said to him, “We’ve got all night.”

“We always have all night,” he said, as he started kissing my neck. “But I also really love getting you naked.” I playfully frowned at him, and Elio replied, “Fine, I also like to build up the anticipation.”

“Good, because we’ve got a long night ahead of us,” I whispered into his ear. Elio, following my lead, slowly unbuttoned my shirt, and threw it to the floor. I crawled into the bed, laying on my side, resting my arm on a pillow, and Elio came and took the same position facing me. I was feeling silly and affectionate, so I nuzzled my nose against his, kissing his lips softly. As he turned his head, I started nibbling on his left ear. I suddenly noticed something I’d never seen before.

“Hey Elio?” I asked, licking his earlobe, and then running my thumb and forefinger on his ear.

“Yeah?” Elio responded, unsure of what I was asking.

“Maybe I’m completely wrong here, but… have you ever had this ear pierced?” I asked, running my finger over a tiny freckle on the center of his earlobe.

Elio started to blush. “Mayyyyybe…”

“Maybe? When did you pierce your ear?”

He rolled onto his back, his head hitting the pillow. “My freshman year of college. I was going through a bit of a George Michael phase, and thought it would be a good look. It wasn’t.”

I started laughing hysterically, and placed my head on his chest. Elio began laughing, too. “Please tell me you have photographic evidence of this fashion faux pas?”

“Oh, no, the thing got infected about a week later and I had to take it out. It mostly closed up soon after, but you can still sort of feel it if you squeeze my earlobe,” he said. I took him up on that and squeezed it gently. “Don’t make fun of me. I was a sad, lonely Italian boy in the United States alone for the first time, still hung up on his first love. You had just gotten married, and I thought it would send a signal to boys that I was interested. I thought maybe I’d find myself another Oliver. But there was only ever one Oliver for me.”

I rolled over and pinned him down, and started to tickle him. “You’re the only L-E-O for me,” I said, saying his name in three distinct syllables. “My one and only. I’m never letting you go again, I promise.”

* * *

During our slow and romantic and very tender lovemaking session, Elio took his delicious, sweet time with every motion, every thrust. He made me feel so loved, so cared for, so needed, and also made me feel pleasure like I’d never known with anyone else in my forty-four years. We had such a mutual understanding of how our bodies worked and what we wanted and craved. Elio was never satisfied unless he made me feel good, as I always wanted to take care of his needs before my own. We were two souls forever entwined, in complete symbiosis.

After, we faced each other as we rested on the pillows, propped on our sides, looking into each other’s eyes. As I held his gaze, I grazed his jaw and cheeks with my thumb, in complete awe that Elio was mine. I would never stop thinking about how lucky I was that he still wanted me after so much time apart, after I had ripped out his heart and smashed it to shreds. I didn’t deserve to be this happy, I didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as Elio, but I was glad that he wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked me, ruffling my hair.

“About how lucky I am that I am here, with you, naked in bed, in Rome, on a vacation gifted by your parents. Everything in my life had always been so complicated, but now, it just feels easy, feels right, having you by my side.”

“I will always, ALWAYS, be by your side, Oliver. I promise. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I made a decision tonight,” Elio said.

“A decision? About what?”

“About us, about how we’ll have to do long distance.” My stomach dropped - I knew everything with Elio was too good to be true. “I can’t change my class schedule for the fall, but I decided that I’m going to apply for visiting professor positions in Boston for the spring. If I can’t find something, I’ll take a sabbatical for the spring semester and “do research” in Boston, and use that time to apply for full-time professor work in your area.”

I smiled widely, and pressed my forehead to his. “Are you sure? You love teaching at Princeton, I can’t ask you to change your career and your life for me.”

“I love being with you more than I love Princeton. You’re not asking me to do this. I’m making this decision. You can’t uproot the boys, and I would never want you to do that, so leaving Massachusetts isn’t an option for you. If we want to be together, which I want more than I’ve ever wanted anything, I have to move up near you. If you want to be with me, you’re not going to fight me on this.”

Fight him on this? I was beyond thrilled. We’d only have to be apart for four months, and we’d see each other nearly every weekend. After that, we could just be together. We could just be, no qualifiers. “I’m not going to fight you. Selfishly, I want you as close to me as possible, and this would allow us to be together, in the same place, without distance standing in our way.” I pressed my body close to his and kissed him. And kissed him, and kissed him some more. I never wanted to stop kissing him, but my body wanted more than just kisses, and I could feel Elio’s body telling me the same thing. We were in for a long night of listening to our bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! The pace might slow down a bit for posting, but I should be able to post a chapter a day for the next few days. I've split up quite a few chapters going forward - this is mostly because some of the chapters are going to be very long, and I want to continue with the same narrator (I change chapters each time the narrator changes).
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you're all doing well! Thank you for all of your nice words while I was away trying to finish up some things for work!


	54. Complete Symbiosis, Part Two

_**POV: Oliver, July 15, 2007** _

I woke up the next morning with Elio’s head on my chest, his arm around my waist, and his leg splayed across mine. He was wearing my Harvard shirt, and nothing else, which was actually all sorts of sexy, and I made a mental note to tell him that later. I tried to slip out of bed to go use the bathroom and get ready for my jog, when Elio squeezed me tighter. “Stay in bed, too tired. Sleep more.”

He fell right back asleep, so I wriggled out of his grip, got up, and could barely move my head. I was feeling a massive hangover coming on. I looked over at the clock, and it was almost noon. Between the headache and the late hour, running wasn’t really in the cards today. What happened last night?

After using the bathroom, I looked around the room for clues to why I was so hungover. I noticed in the mirror that I had a bruise on my neck, that I assumed was a hickey - I hadn’t had one of those since I was seventeen. We were mostly sober by the time we got back from the club. I saw a handful of condom wrappers on the floor. That didn’t surprise me in the least, but I didn’t really remember anything after the second time after we got back, and these wrappers were telling me that we were much more sexually active last night than I remembered. I wish I remembered, I wanted to remember seeing Elio’s body writhe around in pleasure, the way he bucks his narrow hips and bites his lip. I bent down to pick up some of the wrappers to throw them away, but bending down hurt my whole body. Was I just sore from dancing?

Then I saw it on the desk - the bottle of wine that had been left in our room was completely empty, as were all of the small liquor bottles that had been stocked in the hotel room, and another large bottle of liquor was half empty. I was going to have to give the hotel my credit card - I couldn’t have Sammy paying for this.

After cleaning up the room a bit, I hopped back into bed with Elio. He immediately snuggled with me, placing his head on my stomach as he contorted around me. My stomach started rumbling - I hadn’t eaten anything, aside from maybe some more macarons (judging by the crumbs on the floor) since before the club last night. “Stop growling, be a quiet pillow,” Elio said. “I need to sleep for another two days, everything hurts.”

“Are you awake?” I asked him, as I pawed at his curls.

“I think so, but I don’t want to be. What time is it?”

“Around noon,” I said. “Should I order us some room service brunch, and then we can figure out what the hell happened last night in this room?”

“You don’t remember? Last night was amazing,” he said, repositioning himself, resting his head on my shoulder and playing with my chest hair. He had a bruise similar to the one on my neck on his shoulder. We must have held nothing back last night.

“I remember holding your legs over my shoulders and pounding into you after you told me you were going to find a job in Boston, but everything after that is a blur.”

“You are definitely missing like six hours there. Give me the room phone and I’ll order us some food, and then I’ll fill you in.” Elio sat up, and scrunched up his face in pain, holding his head. “Ahh, that hurts. We drank way too much last night. Do we have any ibuprofen?”

“I didn’t pack anything, unless you did.”

Elio shook his head. “Owww. Nope, nothing. I’ll ask for some aspirin from room service, as well.” He sat up, grabbed the phone, dialed the operator, and ordered some food. “It should be here soon. So, what do you need to know about last night?”

“Well, first of all, why are you in my Harvard shirt, and nothing else? When I woke up and saw you, that was SO sexy... you were on your stomach, and seeing your ass and thighs when my shirt was riding up your torso, after I hopped out of bed... If I wasn’t so hungover, and you weren’t asleep, I would have taken you, then and there.”

Elio smirked deviously. “Well, we were really drunk at that point, and we were listening to my iPod and dancing close together - we each took an earbud, we were dancing to the Psychedelic Furs. We were naked, and you said that you bet I looked good dancing in your clothing, so I went into your suitcase and grabbed this and put it on. I danced for you in just the shirt, and you pretty much immediately got on your knees and sucked me off.”

“Okay, I don’t doubt any of that for a minute, and I really want you to recreate that for me later when the room isn’t spinning so I have an actual memory of that, and I promise I’ll do that again for you.” I got out of bed and ruffled through the closet to grab us each a hotel bathrobe. I only found one - the other was already on the floor. “What else happened last night?” I threw Elio the fresh bathrobe and put on the one from the floor.

“Some time around the third or fourth round, we decided it would be a good idea to open the wine, and it was already 2 or 3 in the morning at that point. Then, I decided that I really wanted to take a body shot off of you, so I cracked open one of the small liquor bottles in the hotel room. There was no tequila, because Italy is too good for that, and we didn’t have any salt for me to lick off of your stomach, so I decided in my pretty drunk and horny state, that I would just pour the alcohol itself on your concave stomach and lick it off of you. So I did that.”

I touched my stomach, and it was kind of sticky. I had just assumed it was bodily fluid-related. “That explains why my stomach is so sticky. Did taking a shot that way work?”

Elio chuckled and said, “No, not at all. Licking your stomach was fun, though.”

As Elio told me about the early morning, small pieces were coming back to me. “So… we got very drunk, had a lot of sex, danced naked, made a mess of the room… am I missing anything? Were we... safe, every time?”

“Yes, you insisted on condoms every time. I wouldn’t exactly say it was a LOT Of sex, if you’re going by number of condom wrappers... we had a few false starts because we were both very, very drunk. I think we ordered more alcohol from room service, and we finished off the macarons my mother packed,” Elio said. “I could really go for one right now, too.”

I had a brief glimpse of us on the balcony. “Did we fool around on the balcony?”

Elio scratched his head for a minute. “Oh, yeah, you thought no one would notice us fooling around on the balcony if you wrapped us both in one bathrobe. I went along with it, and we were pretty quiet, all things considered, so I don’t think anyone actually saw or heard us, but I think it’s pretty obvious what we were doing…”

“And what WERE we doing?” I asked him.

He smiled at me, and looked down at my crotch in my open bathrobe. “You jerked us both at the same time while I held the bathrobe closed around us and faced you, pressing close to you. I think our adventure in the supply closet gave you a taste for public displays…”

There was a knock on the door, so we both made sure our robes were tied tight. A hotel attendant brought us the breakfast that Elio had ordered. And a bottle of aspirin, thankfully. We tipped her for the delivery, and set up the food on the table. Elio had ordered us a pot of coffee, a pitcher of juice, soft-boiled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mixture of pastries. “Elio, this is perfect, thank you.”

I immediately opened the jar of aspirin, and went into the bathroom to fill us each a glass of water. We each took aspirin to help take care of the hangover, and sat down to eat our breakfast. I’d never needed coffee more in my life.

“Maybe we should drink less for the rest of this trip,” I said, sipping my coffee. “I want to actually remember each time we make love, and it’s also not actually that healthy to black out like this…”

“No, it’s probably not, though to be fair, _I_ didn’t black out. But you drank twice what I did.”

Elio poured himself a cup of coffee and added cream and sugar. “You really like things sweet, don’t you,” I commented, as I drank my black coffee.

“I do, I’ve got a real sweet tooth. It’s why I like you so much,” he said, placing an egg on an egg cup and cracking it open with a spoon.

“Is that why I’ve got this thing?” I asked, pointing to the hickey on my neck.

That made Elio laugh. He took a bite of his egg, and said, “No, I just really wanted to kiss your neck, and I got a little overzealous. You more than made up for it with this,” he said, pointing at his shoulder. “I might have some bite marks on my ass, also.”

“I’ll inspect that for you later,” I said with a smirk. I grabbed a fork and immediately stabbed at a piece of bacon. This was what I needed right now. Between the aspirin, and the coffee, and now the bacon, I was feeling better, but my whole body was still sore. “I think we might need to take things a little easy today, last night was rough on me.”

“I’ll be gentler with you tonight. You can be as rough as you want with me, though.” He dipped a small torn-off piece of the toast into the soft-boiled egg, and slowly ate the piece. “We’ll go to a pharmacy and buy some makeup to cover up the hickey - Marzia showed me how to hide them. I bet she’ll get a kick that we need to do that.”

I chewed on a delicious pastry, and asked, “How much do you tell her about us? About our sex life?”

“I’ve told her bits and pieces from twenty years ago at various points in time, but our private moments are still our private moments. Sometimes she can figure something out just by looking at me. She immediately knew that we had slept together a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t give any lurid details,” Elio said. “Why, have you told anyone about us? Saying that out loud, I think I know the answer.”

“I mean, I had told Deb enough that she had gotten the gist after we got back together. And I told my therapist about you and about our flirting last winter, but otherwise, no, I’ve never really had anyone to confide in the way you have Marzia. Until I told Howie about you, and Rhonda, the woman that I slept with, Deb was the only person close to me who knew… I guess, besides Ari.”

“And Vic,” Elio added. “He saw us kissing, too. I didn’t know you went to therapy.”

I nodded. “Yeah, after Deb died, the grief counselor recommended a psychiatrist who worked with grief and depression. I went kind of less frequently than I should have, and I never went on medication, but it helped. She talked me through how I was feeling. That Deb is gone, and I shouldn’t feel guilty for loving you. She also helped me work through some of the internalized homophobia and father issues.”

Elio placed his hand on mine. “I am always here for you, for anything.”

“Thank you, Elio. I know that, and I appreciate that. I love you so much.”

While we ate, we figured out a plan for the afternoon. It had been years since I’d visited Rome, and I hadn’t really done too many tourist things, so Elio mentally planned out a map of the places we would visit today. After we ate every last bit of food, Elio asked if we should shower and head out for the day.

“I think there’s an inspection I need to do, first,” I said, picking him up off the chair and carrying him over my shoulder toward the bed. He jokingly flailed his arms and kicked his legs while I carried him. I placed him down on the bed as he disrobed, wearing only my tshirt. I quickly threw my robe to the floor, too. “Roll over,” I said, “I want to examine the bite marks I left on you.”

He got on all fours, and I palmed his ass cheeks, noticing that my teeth had indeed left a mark. “Since you’re already in this position, I can think of a few things we could do…” I said, gently rubbing the spot where I had left a mark.

“Please tell me that involves your tongue in some unspeakable places,” Elio said, with a whimper.

“Well, if you insist…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Three will be up tomorrow! We'll actually see them wandering around Rome, so their bodies will get a LITTLE reprieve.
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments, kudos, and general support!


	55. Complete Symbiosis, Part Three

_**POV: Oliver, July 15, 2007** _

Elio and I spent the afternoon wandering around Rome. My massive headache was still pounding, but I was trying to enjoy the day. Any time spent with Elio was wonderful, even if my head was throbbing. I pocketed the bottle of aspirin, because I knew I’d need to take more later.

We made a quick stop at a pharmacy, where Elio bought some foundation to cover up our hickeys. After we paid, we stood in an alley, where he applied it to my neck. I didn't have a mirror, but I trusted his judgment. His was covered by his shirt, but we'd need it when we got back to the villa and would sit by the pool shirtless.

On the walk to the Trevi Fountain, I stopped at a street vendor and ordered us arancini. With a mouth full of fried rice ball, I said to Elio, “How do you stay so thin, living in Italy? This is so good.” Fried food was exactly what my body needed today.

Elio shrugged. “Good genes? I’m worried about the day that it all comes crashing down on me.”

“Then I’ll be there next to you, making you eat healthier, and forcing you to exercise more with me.”

“Says the man who is shoving his face with arancini,” Elio said with a half smile. I really didn’t understand the biology or physiology behind it, but eating fried food after a hangover really was a miracle.

We held hands, our fingers interlaced, as we walked the streets. I couldn’t shake the nervous feeling that something bad was going to happen to us while we were together, but I was just so enamored by Elio, and didn’t want to hide anything. I can be an imposing presence when I want to be, so I didn’t think anyone would start a physical altercation, but I was bracing myself for verbal slurs. Shockingly, we received none, or at least, none that I understood.

At the Trevi Fountain, Elio handed his digital camera to a teenager and asked her to take a picture of us. “We’re going full tourist today,” he said to me, as he wrapped his arm around me for the picture. He thanked the girl for taking the pictures, and put the camera back in his pocket. “Do you know the tradition of throwing three coins in the fountain?”

I shook my head. I knew you threw coins, but not the specifics. “Tell me, oh wise Italian tour guide.”

Elio reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. He handed me three, kept three for himself, and put the rest back in his pocket. “So, first, you turn around and face away from the fountain. You throw with your right hand, over your left shoulder, see, like that big group over there is doing. The first coin guarantees your return to Rome. The second leads to a new romance with a Roman, and the third leads to a happy marriage.”

“The first and third ones sound great, but what if I’m already in a new romance with an Italian and French and Jewish and American man? Do I need to throw the second coin?” I asked.

“Well, it’s still a new romance. My mom’s ancestors lived in Rome in the Jewish ghettos, which makes me part Roman, so I guess it counts. And you look like a Greco-Roman God, so it counts for me, too,” Elio said. “What about the third coin?”

I smiled at him. “I mean, I’ve thought about it… Same-sex marriage is legal in my state, and I don’t plan on ever leaving you… I think I’d want to get married again, to you, one day, a few years down the line.”

Elio squeezed my hand and said, “I’ve thought about it, too. I mean, not again, I’ve obviously never been married, but I want to marry you, in the future. Realistically, we'd need to see what it's like being together in the States, how things work when you and the boys are on your regular schedules and how I would fit into that... but I don't want to imagine my life without you in it, and this is the first time in my life that marriage, with someone I love and want to be with forever, feels like a real possibility.”

“Let’s throw our coins, then, and guarantee ourselves a happy, married future, with many trips to Rome,” I said. We tossed our coins over our shoulders, and laughed as we heard the coins splash into the water. As our bodies had been in sync, the symbiosis I felt when we made love, and our coins hit the water at the exact moment. This brief conversation, about our future, about marriage, made the physical pain I was feeling all day worth it. Elio and I were always on the same page, and this was no different. We both saw marriage as a distinct and real possibility in the not-so-distant future, but Elio was right about seeing how our lives work together outside of Italy. I knew things would work with us, though. “Where to next?”

“Let’s go to the Spanish Steps,” Elio said. “You didn’t get to run today, so at least you can climb some stairs.”

* * *

We headed toward the Spanish Steps, with my arm wrapped tightly around his waist. It was so wonderful being on a brief vacation with Elio, just the two of us. His parents were right, it was nice to get away together. I appreciated that Elio was willing to be a tourist in a place he’d been a hundred times before, for my benefit.

We climbed to the top of the stairs, took a few pictures of the view, took some pictures of each other and asked another tourist to get a picture of us together, and then we headed off.

“I wanted to take you to Galleria Borghese. It’ll be crowded, but it’s a good museum. There are quite a few Bernini sculptures, and some Caravaggio and Raphael paintings, among other things.”

“Let’s grab some lunch first, and then head over there. I’m starving,” I said. “My head feels fine right now, but my body just wants more and more food.”

Elio led me to a small alley where he took me to a tiny pizzeria. The waiter offered us wine, and we immediately declined. No more alcohol today, possibly ever again. Elio ordered a pizza with mortadella and ricotta, and I ordered a margherita pie. This little hole in the wall had some of the best pizza I’d ever eaten in my life.

At the museum, we walked around slowly, taking in all of the art. Elio made me pose in front of a statue. “I want to take a picture of my work of art with a work of art,” he said, as he snapped a photo.

“Are you just trying to get in my pants?” I whispered to him as we walked to the next exhibit, my arm around his shoulder.

“What if I was?” he whispered back, wrapping his arm around my waist, subtly placing his hand on my ass.

“I’d say it was working, but to be patient and wait until we get back to the hotel. I think my body still needs a break,” I said.

We took our time at the museum, admiring the paintings, inspecting the sculptures. Elio took more pictures of me, and I took more pictures of him.

* * *

After the museum, we walked a bit to a cafe so we could have more coffee. More caffeine was necessary before I took another aspirin.

“I used to drink so heavily in college, and I never had hangovers that felt like this,” I said to Elio, as we sat down to order.

“That’s because you’re not twenty anymore. Though I do enjoy testing the limits of your body in other ways,” he said.

Elio took out his camera and took a picture of me as I gave him a dirty look. “Hey, can I see the pictures that we’ve taken today?” I asked. He handed me the camera and I started scrolling through the pictures, as we looked at them together. “This one is really nice,” I said, zooming in on one of us at the top of the Spanish Steps, where I was kissing his forehead and he has a big grin.

I kept going, looking through the pictures at the Trevi Fountain. Then, the previous picture was dark, but unmistakably of a penis. I was pretty sure it was mine.

“Umm.. Elio? Why is there a picture of my cock?” I asked him.

He took the camera and zoomed in on the picture, and then looked at me and at my fully-clothed crotch. “I’d need you to take off your pants for me to confirm that this was indeed you, I’d like to make a direct comparison.”

“I’m serious, Elio. And in any case, I’m pretty sure that you are very well acquainted with every part of my anatomy by now.”

His cheeks were starting to get rosy. “Until this picture came up, I had totally forgotten that we did this last night... keep going, just don’t let anyone who walks by you see the pictures.”

I kept the camera in my lap and scrolled through. Apparently we had taken many naked pictures of each other. There were also a few of me sucking his cock, taken by Elio from above, and one taken by me of Elio doing the same. Each picture was more pornographic than the next. In one, my face is cut out, but Elio is clearly riding me, visible from his chest down, his erect cock splayed on my chest with my hand gripped firmly on it, his semen matted in my chest hair. I now vaguely remembered doing this, but I had no idea why I had agreed to taking pictures. My love and desire for Elio drove me to do crazy things.

“Holy shit, Elio, we have to delete those.” I scrolled through them once more. You could never QUITE make out our faces in them, but I knew who and what was in each picture. “These are really hot, though…”

Elio smirked at me. “Are you sure you want me to delete them? I can put them on your computer, hide them in a password-protected folder called “Taxes” or something the boys would never look at, so you can look at those when I’m not there…”

I contemplated this. I was okay with that. I wanted to see these on a larger screen than this tiny camera’s display, anyway.

“Fine, keep them for now… and maybe recreate them, sans camera, later… that is, after you dance for me in just the shirt. I still really want to see that one, sober. What possessed us to take these in the first place?”

“We were cuddling, and you said it was a shame that you didn’t get to see me naked all the time, so I said I could take a picture so you’d always be able to see me naked… and it devolved into this photoshoot.”

The waiter brought us each a coffee. I took a sip and laughed. “My god, I was the drunkest I’d ever been in my life last night, wasn’t I…”

Elio shrugged. “Probably. But we also had some of the best sex we’ve ever had, because we had absolutely no inhibitions… case in point, the evidence on this camera.”

* * *

We finished our coffee, we each took another aspirin, and headed out to wander some more. We decided to just walk around, explore hidden corners of the city that I had never seen and that Elio may not have seen either. We’d been walking for about a half hour, when he realized we were close to something. “Want to see where Caesar was murdered?” Elio asked.

“You seem way too excited about that, but ok, Brute. I take it we’re not far from there?”

“Yup, we’re a few blocks away. Come on, let’s go.” Elio grabbed my hand and pulled me in the opposite direction from where we had been ambling.

We walked a few more blocks, when Elio said, “This is Largo di Torre Argentina. It was excavated in the 20’s during Mussolini’s rebuilding efforts. The Portico of Pompey is here, where Caesar was killed. There were four different temples on this ground, too.”

He led me inside, and we walked around. I leaned against a wall, when I noticed two cats sleeping on top of the column. “Ahh!” I shouted, nearly falling over into Elio’s arms.

“I forgot to tell you, this is now a feral cat colony. There are hundreds of cats here.”

My eyes lit up, as I looked around, and saw lazy cats lounging around everywhere. It was adorable. “I’m more of a dog person, but this is awesome,” I said to Elio, leaning on a rail and looking around at all of the cats.

“Want to go into the cat sanctuary?” Elio asked me. “We can go play with some kittens.”

I nodded quickly. “Yes, let’s definitely go do that.”

When we went into the sanctuary, I sat on the floor, and two kittens immediately came over to me and started nuzzling me. I picked one up and started scratching behind its ears. Elio took out his camera and started taking pictures of me. After we played with the cats for a while, Elio said, “We should probably not stay very long, or you’re going to wind up taking a few home.”

“You’re probably right. Ari and Vic have been bugging me to get a dog for years now, I think they’d be angry if I came home with a cat.”

“If you did get a dog, you should get something small, so you could take it as your carry on in a small kennel for the flights to Italy,” Elio suggested.

“I’m not sure we’re getting any sort of pet. Ari’s only home for another year, and Vic would love it unconditionally but probably forget to feed it, so the dog would become my sole responsibility.”

Elio nodded, knowing how my two sons were. “Should we head back to the hotel to change before dinner? We’re both covered in cat hair, now.”

“Probably a good idea. Let’s head back,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for this afternoon, this has been really lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to Rome, so I'm sorry if I got some of the details wrong. E.g., I think you have to reserve tickets in advance for the Galleria Borghese, but we're just going to pretend you don't need to. I did some research, re: walking times and where things are located, so hopefully this isn't all ridiculous.
> 
> We'll be spending a couple of more chapters with the boys in Rome before we get back to the villa. 
> 
> You are the best readers, and your comments make me so happy. Thank you for all of your support.
> 
> As a heads up, I think this story is going to end at the end of the summer (I've still got plenty of chapters left in this one, though), and then I'm going to take a couple of weeks off to outline the sequel, which will start in the fall.


	56. Taking it Easy

_**POV: Elio, July 15-16, 2007** _

Oliver and I went for a delicious pasta dinner, and after a moonlit stroll, decided to take it easy and head back to the hotel. We decided not to drink anything, even wine, tonight, to let our bodies recover from last night’s indiscretion.

Ignoring the hangover, which was starting to fade, I’d been in a state of bliss all day. Last night was one of the most intimate nights we’d ever had, even if Oliver didn’t remember, and today, he told me that in the future, he can see us getting married. MARRIED. In the future, I could be married to Oliver Morgenstern. It wasn’t a proposal or anything, but it was even more confirmation that he was as committed to this as I was, and that we were planning for the future together. If Elio of twenty years ago had been told that Oliver wanted to marry him, he would have thought it was crazy, for a multitude of reasons, but now, it was something that could reasonably happen in the near future. MARRIED. Oliver wanted us to have a “happy, married future.” I couldn’t stop thinking about that. My heart was just bursting with joy. I couldn’t wait to tell Marzia about what happened at the Trevi Fountain. Just three weeks ago, I was refusing to speak to him because he couldn’t make a decision, and now I was going to move to Boston to be with him, and we were talking about a lifetime together. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.

When we got back to the hotel room, I locked the door behind me, and immediately wrapped my arms around Oliver, kissing him fervently. “I thought we were going to take it easy tonight?” he asked.

“Every minute not spent kissing is a minute wasted,” I said, pushing him against the wall, kissing him more. Oliver returned the kiss gently, but I needed more of him. I started climbing his limbs, and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his middle. Oliver turned us around so my back was pressed to the wall, and he placed his hands underneath my bottom to support me. He carried me to the desk and placed me down, never breaking the kiss. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, pulling him in as close as possible, and I could feel him hard against my thigh, through the fabric of our pants.

“Screw taking it easy,” Oliver said, running his hands down my back, his kisses filled with fire and passion.

“No, we’re going to take it easy,” I said, between kisses. Oliver started gently nibbling at my neck, careful this time to not leave a mark. “But keep kissing me, now. This feels nice.” After probably twenty minutes of kissing and nipping and touching, I wriggled from his grip and jumped off of the desk. “Give me a second,” I said. I went over to the clock radio and fiddled with the stations, until I found an Italian pop song with a good beat. This would do.

I motioned for Oliver to come sit on the edge of the bed, and he followed my lead. I opened Oliver’s suitcase, grabbed the Harvard shirt I had worn last night, and placed it on the desk, while I kicked off my shoes and socks. I started dancing to the song, shimmying my shoulders, shaking my hips. I then slowly started unbuttoning my shirt while I danced. Once my shirt was fully unbuttoned, I threw it at Oliver, and continued dancing. I made my way over to him, spread his legs, and started grinding against him, dancing against his thigh. He reached over to me and started to unbutton my slacks, so I swatted his hand away. “Not yet,” I said, as I continued to dance against him.

I backed up a bit, and unbuckled my belt, pulling it out of my pants and threw it to the floor. I then started unbuttoning my own pants, slowly sliding down the zipper and wriggling out of them (there is really no sexy way to take off a pair of pants). I danced around in my boxers for a while, shaking my behind at Oliver, who was laughing at me, but very clearly enjoying every second of this. The song changed, to another Italian pop song, and I decided I could work with that one, too.

I slowly slid my boxers off, and also threw those at Oliver. He caught them,and held onto them. “Oh, fuck, Elio,” he said, as he took off his own belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his own pants, to release his erection. To the beat of the music, I danced over to him, and started grinding against him. Oliver put his hands on my ass, pulling me in closer.

“Give me one more second,” I said, and went over to the desk, putting his shirt on. I went back over to Oliver, dancing against him. Each time I raised my hands, I exposed myself, to his delight. Grabbing Oliver by his shirt collar, I pulled him off of the bed, pulled him close, and danced with him. We continued this way for another song.

“I see why I couldn’t resist this yesterday,” Oliver said, gripping my cock, which was hard as a rock. He got on his knees, took me in, and started sucking my length.

“Mmm, Oliver,” I moaned, as he slid up and down my cock. “I don’t mind defiling this shirt,” I added.

Oliver looked up at me and smirked. “Oh, are we getting into college rivalries now? Because I’d win that one.”

“No, ugh, don’t stop, not fair,” I said. “If I say Harvard is better than Yale, will you keep sucking me off?”

He chuckled and took me back in, methodically working his way around me. I played with his hair, digging my fingers into his scalp. I eventually came in his mouth, moaning his name loudly.

Oliver stood up, smirking proudly, and wrapped his arms around my neck. “You are the sexiest person alive,” he said, eyeing me from head to toe.

“I love you,” I said, kissing his nose.

I slowly started undressing him, and once his clothes were off, pulled him to the bed. “Let’s go take it easy,” I said.

Oliver groaned, and I said, “I didn’t mean we weren’t going to fuck. I just meant that we’d be a little less aggressive about it than last night.”

“That, I like the sound of,” he said, jumping onto the bed, and resting his head on a pillow. I sidled next to him, kissing him deeply.

“I figured you could just take your time, and take me in a spooning position.” Oliver nodded happily. I liked spooning with Oliver - he always lasted a long time, we got to cuddle the whole time, and Oliver liked kissing my neck and shoulders while he was inside of me, which I really enjoyed. We spooned for quite a long time - long enough for me to get hard again. Oliver slowly jerked me while he gently thrust into me, pressing his whole body against my back. Even though I couldn’t see his face, this was so intimate, so wonderful.

After we had finished and cleaned ourselves off, we faced each other in bed. I couldn’t help smiling at him. “What?” he asked, smiling back.

“Nothing, I’m just happy. I never thought I could be this happy.”

“Neither did I,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re going to move to Boston in the spring. This doesn’t feel real.”

“I mean, nothing is set in stone yet, but I imagine it’ll be easy to get a visiting professorship, and I’ll find SOME sort of job, even if it’s at a third tier university.”

Oliver scoffed. “Come on, Elio, you know that every school within an hour of Boston is going to be clamoring for you once they know you’re looking.” I didn’t think he was necessarily wrong…

“You also said you wanted to marry me one day…”

“And you said you wanted to marry ME one day…”

We pressed our foreheads to each other, staring into each other’s eyes. I ran my hand gently along his cheek, caressing his face and chin. “I love you so much, Oliver. I can’t wait to plan a future together.”

He nuzzled into me, and we cuddled like this for a long time until we fell asleep.

* * *

When I woke up, Oliver was returning from his morning run. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

"I'm surprised you didn't drag me with you," I said, rubbing my eyes to get a better look at his sweaty body.

"Well, I would have, but you intentionally didn't pack running shoes, so I figured I'd let you sleep," he said. He caught on to my tactic at avoiding exercise for three days...

“I can’t believe you were able to go for a run.”

“I only did a few miles on a treadmill at the hotel - it’s too hard to run outside. My feet are still killing me from all of the cobblestones from yesterday.”

I felt my feet, which were still throbbing. “Me too.”

He pulled his sweaty clothes off and hopped into bed, grabbing my foot. “Here, let me massage you…” he said, rubbing the balls of my feet.

“Unhhh, that feels so good,” I said. “Did your bubbe teach you that, too?”

“Nah, this, I learned on my own,” he said, putting pressure on exactly the right spots. After he massaged my feet, I took over and massaged his.

After a quick lovemaking session in the shower, we decided to go explore the Vatican today. This was our last full day in Rome, so we decided that we’d hit up the Vatican and then a few other art museums. Then, tomorrow, we’d head back to the villa.

Before we headed out, Oliver borrowed my cell phone to call the boys. He hadn’t checked in yesterday, and he wanted to make sure everything was okay. I assured him that my parents would have called if something had happened, but I think he just wanted to hear his sons’ voices.

I sat on the bed and watched Oliver as he talked to each of his sons, admiring how adoringly he spoke to them on the phone. How was I ever going to match his parenting skills and help with his boys?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to marille for noting that Rome is full of cobble that hurts your feet after walking around all day - I added that into this chapter (I had no idea, as I'd never been to Rome).
> 
> Just a short one, from Elio's POV which will end their trip to Rome. We'll head back to the villa after this.
> 
> It might be a few days until the next chapter - I'm just trying to figure out how to write the next few chapters, because I've got some long chapters and fun stuff coming up. I've got it outlined, but I think it'll take me a few days to write everything. I'll post on my tumblr if I think it'll be longer than a day or two.
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support. You are all the best.


	57. O Love Me Truly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "You say you love, but with a voice" by John Keats.

_**POV: Oliver, July 16-17, 2007** _

Elio and I had a great time enjoying the rest of our vacation. I was glad I checked in with the boys, as I’d missed them terribly. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle Ari leaving for college in a year. They said they had a relaxing weekend, and Ari suggested that we spend another few days in Rome. I wondered what sort of trouble he was getting himself into, but imagined it couldn’t be too terrible. Vic said that he missed us, and couldn’t wait to see us tomorrow.

After breakfast, Elio and I headed over to the Vatican. I’d been once before, years ago, but it felt like the sort of thing I might appreciate more as an older adult. However, since Elio hadn’t actually been since a school trip as a child, neither of us realized just how long the lines would be. Once we were told it would be a three hour wait, we decided to leave. “We’ll be back to Rome again, we’ll take the boys next time, and we’ll try to get here when it opens,” I said to Elio. He didn’t seem too disappointed to miss it.

Instead, Elio suggested a change of plans for the day, and said we should go for a hike to the top of Giancolo, a hill overlooking the city. “This is actually perfect, we should get to the top right before noon,” Elio said, looking at my Zayde’s watch to see what time it was now.

“What happens at noon?” I asked.

“They fire the cannon at Piazzale Garibaldi, it’s an interesting sight,” Elio said. “You’ll see when we get up there - there’s a large statue of Garibaldi on horseback.”

As we hiked up the hill, I placed my hand on his shoulder. It was a good thing we were both dressed casually today, in shorts and t-shirts, because we were both starting to get sweaty. We reached the peak at around 11:45, so we bought water from a vendor and sat on a rock, looking out over the city. “You’re right, this is a beautiful view,” I said.

Elio was staring at me instead of at the vista. “I agree,” he said, tilting his head as he looked at me. I nudged him with my shoulder, and then wrapped my arm around him, kissing his temple.

“I love you, Elio. Thank you for showing me around Rome - this has been really great.”

Elio placed his head on my shoulder, and we sat and observed the view until it was time to go watch the cannon. After, we took a few pictures atop the hill, both together and of each other. Part of me never wanted this vacation to end, but the other part was ready to go back to the villa and see my boys. Usually, when we were separated for the weekend, it was Ari or Vic who had weekend plans, like trips for school or sleepovers, so it felt a bit strange that I was the one on vacation without them. I appreciated that the Perlmans were looking after them, but Annella now saw the boys akin to grandchildren, and I know that she loved having them in her care.

* * *

We stopped at a food market and ate some cheese and baccala (salted cod), and headed toward the Protestant Cemetery.

“How romantic, taking me to a cemetery on the last day of our trip,” I said jokingly.

“Hey, have I misled you yet? I wanted to show you where Keats is buried.”

I followed him to the cemetery, and we stopped at Keats’ tombstone. It was only marked as “Young English Poet,” but had quite the epitaph.

_This grave contains all that was mortal, of a young English poet,_ _who on his death bed, in the bitterness of his heart, at the malicious power of his enemies, desired these words to be engraved on his tombstone:_

_Here lies one whose name was writ in water._

“Did you know Keats was only 25 when he died?” Elio asked me. “When I was a kid, and read his poems, I couldn’t imagine feeling that strongly or passionate about something at such a young age. But then I met you at 17, and it all made sense.”

I suddenly remembered a Keats poem, and started saying the last stanza.

**“O breathe a word or two of fire!**  
**Smile, as if those words should burn me,**  
**Squeeze as lovers should - O kiss**  
**And in thy heart inurn me -**  
**O love me truly!”**

After I recited that verse of Keats, Elio placed his hand on the nape of my neck and kissed me gently. “A man who can recite poetry from memory… you really are perfect, aren’t you.”

I chuckled. “Far from it, but I appreciate the sentiment. You’re the one who was reading Keats as a CHILD, for goodness sake…”

We idly held hands as we walked through the cemetery, until Elio stopped and told me to look down. We were at Percy Shelley’s tombstone. How had I forgotten that he was buried here? The stone read:

_Percy Byshhe Shelley_  
**_Cor Cordium_ **  
_…_  
_Nothing of him that doth fade_  
_But doth suffer a sea change_  
_Into something rich and strange_

Elio wasn’t wrong. He managed to turn a trip to a cemetery into romance. “Oh, Elio,” I said, squeezing his hand, looking down at the tombstone once more. “Cor cordium,” I said to him.

“Cor cordium,” he said in return, nodding at me. Tears were welling both of our eyes, and I felt like I was going to be a blubbering mess soon.

Elio started reciting a poem by Shelley.

**"The fountains mingle with the river**  
**And the rivers with the ocean,**  
**The winds of heaven mix for ever**  
**With a sweet emotion;**  
**Nothing in the world is single;**  
**All things by a law divine**  
**In one spirit meet and mingle.**  
**Why not I with thine?—"**

“In one spirit” - that encapsulated my relationship with Elio. Sometimes I felt like we were soulmates, but other times, I felt like we were one and the same. I continued the poem.

**"See the mountains kiss high heaven**  
**And the waves clasp one another;**  
**No sister-flower would be forgiven**  
**If it disdained its brother;**  
**And the sunlight clasps the earth**  
**And the moonbeams kiss the sea:**  
**What is all this sweet work worth**  
**If thou kiss not me?"**

I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed him passionately. “Let’s go back to the hotel before we grab dinner,” I suggested. I needed Elio now, but as much as I had enjoyed our foray into sex in public places, a cemetery was definitely not a place I wanted to do that. I didn’t think I would ever become that person. Though, at this rate, I would do anything for Elio.

We decided to take a taxi back to the hotel. Elio negotiated with the cab driver in Italian (I think he told him he’d pay him extra if he got us there as quickly as possible), and we were off. I was tempted to throw myself at him in the back of the cab, but I restrained myself. Instead, I placed my hand on his leg, running my thumb along the inside of his thigh. Elio gave me a wry look, placed his hand over mine, and sighed. This quick ride was going to be the longest cab ride of our lives.

* * *

After what felt like an hour, but was more like ten or fifteen minutes, we were finally back at the hotel. We were the only guests to step into the elevator, so after pushing the button for our floor, once the doors closed, I pinned Elio to the elevator door and kissed him, pressing my whole body against his. We weren’t paying attention when the elevator reached our floor, and when the doors opened, we fell out of the elevator. I landed on top of Elio, so I pulled myself up, and offered him a hand to pull him off the ground. “I would take you, right in this hallway, if I didn’t think someone would walk by soon,” he said.

I walked as quickly as I could to our room, and opened the door. Once we were inside, I put the “do not disturb” sign on the door, locked it, and immediately started undressing Elio, wasting no time at all. We tugged at the other’s shirts and shorts, and were naked in record time.

Elio leapt onto the bed, and I jumped next to him, crawling on top of him and pinning him to the bed, kissing his neck and chest. “I want you so badly, Elio,” I said, as I nibbled on his neck. “I don’t know if I want to fuck your brains out or make slow, passionate love to you. I always feel conflicted about that.”

“Why can’t we do both? We have the rest of the afternoon,” he said. What followed was an afternoon and evening of some of the best sex we’d ever had (but when was it not amazing? We were so sexually compatible, it was sometimes overwhelming). Elio helped recreate some of what I did not remember from two nights ago, and it made me wish I had not blacked out, because everything was incredible. Despite Elio’s pleas, I was not willing to take any more photographs right now, while I was sober.

After a brief respite for dinner at a nearby bistro, we returned to the hotel, where we continued our lovemaking. As I had promised him months earlier in a drunken and horny email, we were loud and lewd, much louder than we could ever allow ourselves to be at the villa, and felt moderately bad for whomever was cleaning our room after we left tomorrow.

We snuggled on the bed after a particularly vigorous session where Elio bent me over a chair, and I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his forehead. “I am so incredibly in love with you. Only you could turn a trip to a cemetery into this,” I said, pointing at our naked bodies entwined.

He nuzzled into me, leaving not an inch of space between our bodies. “We’re sick, aren’t we,” he said, resting his head in the crook of my neck.

“Sick and twisted, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said, holding him tight. Our sexual appetites were insatiable, and I wondered if this is what it was like being with someone you were utterly crazy for, or if the honeymoon period would eventually wane. I couldn't imagine ever not desiring Elio the way I did now.

* * *

The next morning, we packed up our things, we defiled the hotel room once more, grabbed a quick breakfast, and headed to the train station to go back to the villa. Sammy said that either he or Anchise would be there to pick us up, but Elio and I both knew that meant Sammy would be there. Elio and I did not get much sleep the night before, so he spent the train ride with his head on my shoulder and arm around my waist, sleeping soundly. I sat on the window seat, watching the Italian countryside pass us by. I could get used to this view, and realized that I would be seeing a lot more of it, since I assumed we’d be going to Italy together every summer going forward.

I eventually drifted off to sleep, resting my head on top of Elio’s. I was awoken by a train conductor tapping my shoulder, telling me that we were the next stop. I rubbed Elio’s side, trying to wake him up. “Don’t wanna get up,” he said. “Want to snuggle more,” he added, squeezing me tighter and putting his head back down.

“Elio, we’ll be at our stop in a few minutes. You can sleep more when we get back to the villa.”

We arrived at the station, carried our things off of the train, and were greeted by not only Sammy, but also Vic, who sprinted toward us as soon as he spotted us. He jumped up and hugged me. “I missed you, Dad!” he said, squeezing my middle.

I mussed his hair and hugged him back. “I missed you too, Vic.”

Vic then hugged Elio and offered to take one of our suitcases to the car. “Did you have a good vacation? How was Rome?” Vic asked excitedly.

“It was great,” Elio answered.

“We had a nice time. We’ll take you there one day,” I added.

When we loaded into the car, Vic asked, “Did Elio bring his camera? Can I look at your pictures?”

I looked at Elio through the rearview mirror, and we smirked at each other. “Elio will post some pictures on Facebook and we’ll show those to you later, how does that sound?”

Vic chattered away about his weekend at the villa. He helped Annella harvest some of the vegetables she’d planted, he’d practiced his music, and worked on his composition that Elio was helping him write. Mafalda and Annella also taught him how to make tortelli cremaschi. As he talked to Elio about his music, I kept looking at Elio in the mirror, still reeling over how wonderful our brief trip was. I thought about the past year, all of the months that I had resisted, was afraid of letting myself go. I was so glad that I finally gave in. These past two weeks had meant everything to me, and I could no longer imagine my life without Elio beside me. I had never been so sure about anything in my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that took so long, I had a very long week, filled with both a lot of work, and a lot of Timothee. Wound up making it to the Beautiful Boy Q&As. Check out my [tumblr](https://noodlekugel.tumblr.com) for a couple of pictures that I took yesterday. He seemed like the sweetest and most humble celebrity I've ever encountered, and after seeing the way he handles himself in person, when he was clearly drained and exhausted, my admiration for him has grown so much.
> 
> Should be able to get a chapter out tomorrow, and after that, not sure about my schedule for the week. Work has been super busy, so hopefully I'll be able to get a few chapters up next week!
> 
> Some notes about this chapter:
> 
> I apologize if the Rome things are incorrect. I did a lot of research about places in Rome/tried to make things as accurate as I could without ever actually having been there myself. The information about Keats' and Shelley's gravestones is from Wikipedia (yeah yeah, I'm a bad academic, citing Wikipedia). As I was reading about different places in Rome, when I saw that Shelley was buried in Rome, I knew I had to have them visit.
> 
> The Keats poem is "You say you love, but with a voice" - I found the text [here](http://keats-poems.com/you-say-you-love-but-with-a-voice/).
> 
> The Shelley poem is Love's Philosophy, which I found [here](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50262/loves-philosophy).


	58. Why Doesn't Any Door in this House Have a Lock?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very awkward, and kind of detailed/frank, discussions of sex await.

_**POV: Ari, July 18, 2007** _

Jasmine and I spent pretty much this entire weekend together. In bed, in the pool, in town, in bed some more, against a wall, at Rocco’s grandparents’ villa, in bed. On Saturday night, when we were fooling around in her bedroom, she told me that I could take her top off if I wanted to, but asked me to leave her bra on. I slowly pulled her shirt over her head, and as she requested, did not even try to remove her bra.

“Jasmine, you are beautiful,” I said, staring at her from head to toe. I started by kissing her neck, and made my way down her body, kissing every inch of exposed skin, on her cleavage, her stomach, her thighs, her legs. I was glad that she was slowly getting to be more comfortable with me, and that she realized that even if she was a bit rounder than some of the other girls in this town, I found her stunning, and I was so attracted to both her body and her mind. I’d never met anyone like Jasmine before, and I was not looking forward to parting at the end of the summer.

* * *

Today, we spent the morning working with Pro, and then Jasmine sat with me after lunch to look over my college applications. She was an excellent proofreader, possibly better than Dad is, and I was really thankful for her help. Even though I was applying early decision to Columbia, Dad was making me finish my applications for all of the schools I was applying to, so that I wouldn’t have to rush to do them if I didn’t get into Columbia in December. “Better to do it now and not need it, than to have to rush through them later,” he had told me.

After working on the applications, we rode our bikes to the lake and went for a swim. Jasmine was wearing her bright green one piece that made her cleavage look fantastic. We were alone in the lake, so she wrapped her arms around me, and we made out for a while. Between the kissing, and how good her boobs looked in that bathing suit, my erection pressed through the fabric of my swimsuit and against her leg.

“I’ve been having a lot of fun with you this summer,” Jasmine said, as we both took time to breathe before resuming our kissing.

“This has been the best summer of my life,” I said.

“I think I’m ready,” she whispered to me.

“Ready for what?” Sex? I prayed that she meant sex. I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but I also really, really wanted it. Please let her be talking about sex.

“I think I’m ready to have sex with you… if you’re ready to have sex with me…” she said sheepishly.

I nodded. “I’m ready. I want to. Of course I want to. You’re amazing. Let’s go back to the villa, then.”

Holy shit, the world’s most perfect woman wanted to have sex. With me. I was going to have sex. Jasmine wanted to sleep with me. Right now. Oh my God.

“Not right now, Ari. I mean… I want it to be special. What about on Saturday night? We’re going with Vic to the _Harry Potter_ book release party in town. Let’s do it when we get back from the party.”

Three days. That was three days from now. I could wait three days.

“That sounds great,” I said, kissing her neck.

“I’ll need to go into town and get a few things. We’ll need condoms. I’m on the pill to regulate my period, but I still think we should use condoms just to make sure I don’t get pregnant.”

I nodded. “I agree - my dad always tells me that if I’m ever going to have sex, I have to use a condom, even if a girl is on the pill, because he is too young to be a grandfather. And also, it’s responsible, and prevents the transmission of diseases and whatever. Not that either of us has any of diseases, as we've only really fooled around with each other... ” Shut up, Ari. Shut your stupid trap.

Jasmine “It’s nice that you can talk to your dad about sex. My mother won’t even talk about periods with me.”

“Yeah, my dad is weirdly open about sex things. Though he never told me about his history with men until earlier this year... I think he is so open because his dad was so traditional and kind of bigoted. Dad said he always wanted us to be open to talking about anything, sex and partying included. He knows that I sleep in your room every night, and he took me into town after the first night and made me buy condoms, just in case of anything, so we’re set on that end…” I said, blushing.

“So… we’re going to lose our virginities using condoms purchased by your father… that’s not weird at all…” she said, laughing.

“Is it okay that I talk to him about that stuff? I don’t have to, if you don’t want me to…”

“No, it’s okay. He’s your dad, and he loves and cares about you. If you were talking to Gio or Rocco, maybe I’d have a problem with it, but you should be able to talk to your father about these things… it doesn’t mean I’m not constantly embarrassed when he’s the only one in a room when I walk in, though…” Jasmine said, letting go of me briefly to tread water.

“Oh, you shouldn’t be embarrassed. My dad really likes you, he thinks you’re a good influence on me,” I said.

We swam around the lake for a bit, and then Jasmine asked, “So, should we dress up for the book release party?”

I laughed. “Do you really want to wear a costume to the book shop?”

“You know that Vic would be into it. We can dress as the trio, we’d just need to get you a red wig. I bet Mafalda could whip us up some quick costumes.”

“Can’t I just be Draco Malfoy so I don’t have to do anything to my hair?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t you rather be a Ron to my Hermione, though?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at me. “Plus, you’re super tall like Ron, and I’ve got the bushy hair for Hermione, so it works! The books never actually say that Hermione ISN’T black…”

“Fine,” I relented. “If you can figure out how to temporarily get my hair the right color or find me a wig that isn’t itchy, I will be Ron for you.”

* * *

When we got back to the villa, Jasmine went in search of Vic and Mafalda, to plan out our costumes. I told Jasmine that I would wear one if she gave it to me (I did think about how that would be the last thing I wore as a virgin, which, is actually kind of comical), but I would have nothing to do with the planning of the costumes.

Instead, I went to look for my dad, to tell him about the conversation I just had with Jasmine. He wanted to know when I was having sex, so I thought he’d want to know that we were planning on having sex this weekend. Plus, I wanted to talk about it with someone, and it seemed disrespectful to talk to a friend, so it was either Dad or Vic, and Dad won that competition.

I went to Dad’s office, where the door was closed. I knocked, and no one answered. “Hello? Dad, are you in here?” I asked, knocking on the door again. Still no answer. Dad and Elio sometimes both worked wearing headphones, so maybe they didn’t hear me.

I opened the door and walked into the office. “Dad, are you in here?” I asked. As I turned my head, I saw Dad, in his office chair, with Elio sitting on his lap, straddling him, as Dad kissed his neck. Elio's whole body was pressed to Dad's, Dad’s hands were squeezing Elio’s butt, and Elio’s hands were in Dad’s hair.

I tripped over a book on the floor and shouted, "Oww! Dammit!"

Elio and Dad noticed me, and as Dad's computer chair spun around to see what happened, Elio fell to the floor. "Oh, fuck," Elio said, standing up, readjusting... himself.

"I'm just... I'll come back later. Sorry... I knocked but no one answered so I assumed you both had headphones on..." I said, as I headed out of the room.

"Is everything okay?" Dad asked, grabbing a book and putting it on his lap.

"Everything was fine, I just wanted to talk to you about something, but I'll come back later." I turned my head toward the door and muttered "Why doesn't any door in this house have a lock?"

Elio laughed as he sat down in his chair and said, "I had Anchise put a lock on my door when I was in college. Probably the only one in the house besides the front door and the bathrooms."

"We can talk now, if you want," Dad said.

"I can give you two some privacy," Elio said, unplugging his laptop and picking it up to take it out of the room.

I shrugged. "Dad will probably tell you about this anyway, so you'd might as well stay. Can't be any more awkward than me walking into that..." I said, but quickly realized it could have been a lot more awkward. At least they were fully clothed.

Elio sat back down and plugged his laptop back in.

I sat down on the table, and Dad asked, "So what's up?"

I ran my fingers through my continually growing hair, thinking about how to start this. "Dad, I was wondering... How old were you the first time you had sex?"

Dad nodded seriously and thought for a moment. "I was seventeen. Penny Sullivan, my girlfriend the first half of my senior year. It was right after the homecoming dance. Your grandfather HATED her, which made me like her more."

I nodded, taking in that information. "What about you, Elio?"

"I was also seventeen..." he said seriously, offering no further details. He met my dad when he was seventeen...

"Oh... Eww..." I said, my cheeks turning pink, as I looked from Elio to Dad and back to Elio. I didn't need to know that he lost his virginity to my dad. Eww. I knew they were having sex, but... I didn't want to be thinking about it.

Elio laughed and Dad put his head in his hand. "Oh, Ari, it wasn't your Dad... It was Marzia. I think she'd willingly offer this information if you asked her, I'm frankly surprised she never mentioned it while you were in the room."

"When did you date Marzia?" I asked.

"On and off for about ten years starting when we were seventeen. It was mostly a friends who are bored and sleep together sort of thing..." Elio said.

Dad laughed. "It didn't start that way. She thought you two were together your first time. Then you slept with me the next night and ignored her the rest of the summer."

I covered my ears and started singing to myself. Details I didn't need to know.

"I was smitten with you, Oliver, I didn't know how to tell her that. It was easier, but not very nice, to just avoid. Anyway, Ari, I eventually came clean to her, and we became the best of friends, who occasionally had sex when they were in the same place and both single. Until she met Thierry."

I was quickly learning a lot about both my dad and Elio, maybe I wasn't ready for this.

"Are you and Jasmine having sex?" my dad asked, bluntly.

I shook my head. "Not yet, but we talked about it earlier. She said she's ready."

Dad nodded his head again. "Are you ready? Do you want to have sex with her? You know that you're allowed to say no, also. Sex is a two way street."

"No, I absolutely want to. I really like her, and I think I'm ready. She said we should do it on Saturday night, after the _Harry Potter_ book release party. We already have the condoms you bought me."

Elio sat quietly while Dad responded.

"Okay, if you feel you're ready, and she's ready, and you both want to do this together, then you should. Just, be careful, and be safe. You know how to use a condom, right?" Dad asked. "Do they actually show you how to do it in school?"

"I know how to use a condom..." I said, exasperatedly. "They didn't show us, but I think I get the basics."

"I'll go ask Mafalda for a banana, and I'll show you..." Dad said. Elio stifled his laughter.

"Dad! No! I know how a condom works. Do you need me to go step by step for you?" I said sarcastically.

"Go ahead," he said. "I just want to make sure you're safe and protected. I do not want to be a grandfather until you're at least done with graduate school."

I put my head in my hands. This is what I get for telling my dad about my sex life. "Fine. You tear open the wrapper carefully. You said to never use your teeth. Examine it for any obvious problems, and if it's okay, you pinch the tip and then slowly roll it on. Are we done now?"

"Thank you, Ari. I just had to make sure you knew. Hey Elio, can I talk to Ari alone for a bit?" Elio nodded and left the room.

I grabbed Elio's chair and moved it to the same side of the table as Dad before sitting in it.

"You remember what we've talked about, with consent, right? I know I bring it up a lot, but it's really important."

I nodded. "I remember. If she says to stop or not to do something at any point, I stop or don't do it."

"Good. Now, I'm going to have this frank discussion with you now, and we never have to have it again, but I need to say these things once, because I kind of wish someone had said them to me," Dad said. "This is going to be uncomfortable, but please don't leave."

Oh boy. What the heck did Dad have up his sleeve? "Okay..."

“So… sex… is about two people, not one. It’s a partnership, and you are committing to it together. You… you want your partner to get as much out of it, if not more, than you. Sometimes it’s difficult, when you’re in the moment and everything feels good, to adjust to your partner’s needs, but you have to keep that in mind. When you take care of your partner, it should be good for you, too.”

I started nervously fiddling with my Star of David necklace. Dad was right, this was uncomfortable.

“Boys in high school, in college, are… are sometimes afraid of performing oral sex, and skip over foreplay in general, which you should never do, because a woman needs sufficient foreplay to… be warmed up, for penetration. Otherwise, sex will be painful for her. Women… sometimes foreplay and oral sex are the best parts of sex for them, not all women orgasm from intercourse alone, they need clitoral stimulation.”

I hid my eyes in my hands. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. “OH MY GOD. Dad… stop it.”

“I’m almost done. I just need you to hear all of this. The things about sex that they aren’t going to teach you in school. A woman’s first time, it might be painful. Just, be gentle, and treat your partner well. Stop if she wants you to stop, and try to make things as pleasurable for her as you can.”

I nodded at my father, and prayed that he was done talking.

“Oh, also, do you know about multiple orgasms?”

“Ugh, Dad, please, stop. I’ve heard that phrase, but I don’t really know what it is.”

“So… after a man orgasms, there’s a refractory period before he’s capable of getting hard again, of orgasming again, but for a woman, she can have another orgasm soon after if you keep stimulating her, and the second might be more pleasurable or happen quicker than the first because everything's already built up. Just something that men don’t always know about or think about, because they’re thinking about their own pleasure, but could make sex more enjoyable for a partner…” Would my father please stop saying the words orgasm and pleasure? This was the most awkward conversation of my entire life.

“Are we done now?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m done. Ari, you know that I love you, and I just want you to have happy and fulfilling sexual relationships. I want you to have safe, consenting, and good sex. You get that, right?”

“It’s weird, but I get it. Thanks, Dad.” I scratched my head and tried to change the subject. “I have a weird question. Is Elio going to move up to Massachusetts to live with us?”

Dad nodded his head. “We didn’t talk about him moving in, more about him moving up to the Boston area. I figured I would talk to you boys about it first, but Elio’s going to try to get a visiting professor position in the spring semester and see how things go when we’re in the same place, and then he’s going to try to find a full-time teaching job in the Boston area if everything goes well. I didn’t want him to have to change jobs, he loves Princeton, but we want to be together. I can’t expect you boys to move to New Jersey, and I don’t want to uproot your lives, so I’m thankful that he’s offered to look in Boston. We’ll just have to do long distance in the fall.”

“You really love him, don’t you,” I said. I had never seen Dad like this before - he was definitely head over heels for Elio, and he seemed consumed by it.

“I do, very much so,” he said. “Is it weird for you?”

“A little bit, I’m not going to lie, but I want you to be happy, and I really like Elio. Also, remember that I’m the one who tried to set you up in the first place? And selfishly, maybe it’ll make me more interesting on my college applications,” I said with a smirk. Dad jokingly smacked me on the head with a magazine from the desk. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but do you think that you and Elio might get married one day?”

Dad nodded. “Maybe. I obviously don’t want to disrespect your mother’s memory, I loved her very much. But I think I might want to, in the future. We’ll see how things go.”

“I… I think Mom would have liked Elio, I think she’d be happy that you are happy with him, and she would have liked how good he is with Vic. She loved the Perlmans, and she’d be happy how they’ve taken us in.” I got up from the chair, and Dad stood up and pulled me into a very tight hug. As he released me, I noticed that he had makeup smeared on his neck, and that it looked like he had a bruise there. It was my turn to embarrass him. “Hey, Dad, you’ve got a little something on your neck,” I said, pointing to it.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Dad said, placing his hand over the bruise.

“If by nothing, do you mean a hickey?” I asked, laughing. Dad’s cheeks were turning pink. “I take it you were keeping busy in Rome. See you later, Dad,” I said, leaving the room and closing the door behind me.

Thank goodness that conversation was over. Though, I did now feel strangely more prepared for Saturday night. It was weird to take sex advice from my father, but I guess it was better to have a father who supported me and gave me advice than one who was strict and didn't talk to me about anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued kind words - I appreciate your support and comments so much. I love knowing what you guys think!
> 
> Sorry for the frank and detailed conversation between Oliver and Ari - I've been planning for them to have a specific (instead of abstract, like in the past) talk like this for a while, once Ari was ready to have sex. I wanted Oliver to be as open as possible with his boys, and try to encourage them to have healthy sexual relationships and respect women, and being a giving and respectful sexual partner is part of that. I felt like that would be a good part of Oliver's development as a person/as a parent.
> 
> Should hopefully have a chapter up tomorrow, and then I might be able to post again on Friday. This story is winding down, but I've started outlining the sequel, so don't despair! I can't let myself part with these characters yet. I've also got an AU idea for another story floating in my head, but I want to get the sequel completely outlined first before I touch on that one.


	59. Sweetcheeks and Stud Muffin, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts off very NSFW...

_**POV: Oliver, July 21, 2007** _

I decided to let the kids sleep in this morning instead of going for a run, since I knew we were going to be out late at the _Harry Potter_ book release party, and Ari was presumably going to be up even later than that. I had probably overdone it in our conversation the other day, but I said what I thought he needed to hear. Even though I've always told the boys that I'm okay with their sexual activity and experimentation, I thought I'd be more internally upset when I learned that they were actually sexually active (and would keep it to myself to seem supportive), but I was surprisingly okay with Ari's confession. Maybe it was because he confided in me beforehand, or maybe it was because he was old enough to be having sex, and Jasmine was a good person.

For the first time in ages, I didn’t set an alarm clock. I woke up to daylight creeping in through the window, and birds chirping outside. Elio’s head was on my chest, and my arm was wrapped tightly around him, my hand on his stomach. He was still sound asleep (Elio hadn’t changed in twenty years - he could still sleep like a champ), and was snoring slightly. I wanted him to sleep like this every night for the rest of our lives, with his naked body pressed to mine. Oh, the things that his naked body stirred within me. The things that his clothed body did to me, for that matter.

I gently ran my fingers along his chest and stomach, to see if he was awake. He stirred a bit (perhaps I woke him, but I really needed him right now), and moved his body closer to mine, wrapping his leg around mine. I kissed the top of his head, and he said, “Mmm, good morning.”

“Good morning, indeed.” Elio turned onto his side to face away from me, grabbing my arm around his waist so we could spoon.

“Let’s cuddle for a bit, I’m still tired. Will you hold me?” I wanted him so badly right now, but cuddling would have to do.

I squeezed him tight, finding a comfortable spooning position. I loved holding Elio. Due to the difference in our sizes, I didn’t mind always being the big spoon. When I held Elio, I got to keep him close to me, keep him warm and safe and protected in my arms. We laid this way and both fell asleep for another hour or so. I woke up to Elio, who had somehow gotten out of my tight grip, facing me, staring at me, his forehead and his nose millimeters from my own. “Good, you’re awake now,” he said, smiling at me.

“I am. What time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s Saturday, and we have nowhere to be for hours.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“Nope,” he said. “Nowhere to be but this bed. Or maybe that shower, or that chair, or that floor...”

“Give me one minute,” I said, jumping out of bed to quickly use the bathroom and brush my teeth - spur of the moment romance was fun, but morning breath was not. I quickly jumped back into bed in the same position as before, and asked, “So, where were we?”

“I think you were about to give me a blow job,” Elio said.

“Oh, I was about to do that, was I?” I asked, as I pulled him in closer, tickling him.

Through his laughter, he nodded his head. “Yep. You were going to give me one of your fantastic blow jobs, you were going to let me come all over you, and then you were going to fuck me while I was on all fours.”

Whenever he spoke like that, I got incredibly turned on. “Yes, that does sound exactly like what I was going to do.” I rolled on top of him, and kissed him deeply. Elio ran his hands down my back, squeezing my behind. He was feeling particularly frisky this morning. I was definitely into this. I looked up and down his body, and said, "I am going to devour you this morning."

I slowly made my way down his body, licking his nipples, kissing his stomach, then his thighs. I pulled him toward the edge of the bed, spread his legs, and knelt on the floor as I started sucking him. “Oliver…” he moaned, as I took his entire length in my mouth, gently applying pressure to his hardness with my teeth. I licked and sucked on his sac, and made my way further south, teasingly licking at his entrance, which elicited the sweetest of groans from Elio. I could get off just from the noises he made while we were fooling around. He reached for my head, and began digging his fingers into my scalp, as I usually did when he went down on me.

I grabbed the lube from the nightstand, and eventually made my way back to his cock, expertly sucking and licking, using one hand to fondle his balls, while I inserted one finger, and eventually a second inside of him. I slowly began feeling my way around as he happily squirmed at the pressure. “I’m close, Oliver,” he shouted. With that, I removed my fingers, climbed back on the bed, and pulled him on top of me. He straddled my hips, and I jerked him until he came, spurting ribbons over my chest and stomach. Elio used his hand to rub his seed all over my torso. He crawled on top of me and kissed me, wrestling his tongue with mine.

After we kissed for a few minutes, Elio then reached over to the nightstand to grab a condom, tore it open and put it on me. “My, you’re impatient,” I said, incredibly turned on by how needy he currently was. He grabbed the lube and added more, as I rubbed what was left on my fingers over his hole, running my finger in a small circle, continuing to tease him. There was nothing more gratifying in this world than causing Elio to experience pleasure.

He propped himself up on all fours, and I knelt behind him, tightly gripping his hips as I entered him. If he wanted it on all fours, I was giving it to him rough, as it was difficult for me to be gentle or tender in this position. I thrust deep into him, giving him everything I could. "Oooh," Elio muttered incoherently, breathing heavily.

I worked myself up into quite a sweat, thrusting and moaning loudly. This felt way too good, and I was way too turned on to last a long time. "Oliver," I said, with one final thrust, as I came forcefully.

After, we reclined side by side, Elio's head on my shoulder as he looked up at me. "You're like having a puppy," I said, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes wide, not unlike a puppy's.

"There, that look. I can't resist bending to your every whim, I can't keep my eyes off of you, I want to keep my fingers in your hair all day, and your energy is keeping me young and active."

He scooted up toward my pillow and licked my lips playfully. "I'll take that as a compliment, then."

I smiled at him. "It was meant as one. If I didn't already call Vic 'Pup,' it might be an apt nickname for you."

Elio shook his head. "No, I like how you say my name. Don't call me something else. I spent twenty years waiting to hear you say my name."

"So I can't call you hon, or babe, or sweetcheeks, or Elly?" I asked.

"Oh, you should definitely call me Sweetcheeks, that will not make your sons uncomfortable at all."

"C'mere, Sweetcheeks," I said, patting my shoulder so he'd snuggle into me.

"Sure thing, Stud Muffin," he said, with a chuckle. Elio nestled into me, and I wrapped my arms around him. "Hon or babe are fine in moderation, in a moment of intimacy or affection, but I like my name. It's part of who I am, of my family. I like your name, too. I've always thought of you as my Oliver."

I didn't mind Elio being possessive like that - I felt the same way. "My Elio," I said. I kissed the top of his head, and sighed happily.

"We should probably shower and head down to breakfast. I'm hungry."

"I said I'd devour you, but I'm hungry for you again." My stomach made an audible growl, as if on cue. "But let's do that in the shower, because I think I need real food and not just you. Though you are delicious."

* * *

After lunch, I played volleyball with Ari, Vic and Elio. Jasmine sat on the grass working on her laptop. I liked that she worked a lot, even on the weekends - she had a good work ethic. We decided teams were most fairly split if I took Vic and Ari took Elio, since Vic complained that it would be unfair if Ari and I were on the same side due to our heights. I also thought it would be nice for Ari to bond with Elio.

Vic hadn't played much volleyball, so I taught him how to serve the ball. It took him a few tries to get it over the net, and Ari protested when we let him take a few mulligans, but I glared at Ari and silently begged him to be nice to his brother.

At one point, Elio hit the ball toward me, and when I dove to hit the ball, I slid too far and missed, giving them the point. As Vic offered me a hand up, Ari rushed to Elio to give him a high five.

The game wasn't even close. Ari was far more athletic than the rest of us, and they handily won the first three matches. He and Elio were a good team and fell into a good rhythm. Elio would set the ball up and Ari would spike it. By the end of the third game, Ari and Elio had devised their own handshake to celebrate each time they scored. At one point, I whispered to Vic, "Look at them, they make a good team!"

"This isn't fair," Vic said, as we sat down after the last match, waiting for Mafalda to bring us refreshments. "I want to be on Ari's team next time, I don't want to lose again."

"Sure thing. Next time, Elio will be on my team instead and you can be with your brother." I loved that there were an infinite number of next times.

* * *

 After lunch, we sat at the table drinking apricot juice with Jasmine and the Perlmans, as we heard a little child round the corner and scream.

"Oncle Elly!" Noemie shouted, running at full speed towards Elio and jumping into his lap. "I missed you!" she said, kissing his cheek. Elio and I had been holding hands, so I released his hand so he could hold onto Noemie.

"I missed you, too, mon cherie. It's been over a week, hasn't it."

"It's been a lot of days. Like a million. Are you going to swim with me?"

"Of course! That's why I'm in a bathing suit!"

Marzia and Thierry carried a big bag and rounded the corner, and waved at us. Sammy went inside and grabbed two chairs for them.

Noemie crawled from Elio's lap onto mine, which she'd never done before. "Encle Olly!" She said, giggling. I wasn't too happy that one stuck, but she was so cute I let it slide. "Will you let me sit on your shoulders in the pool?"

"Of course, Noemie," I said, patting her head.

Noemie reached over the table from my lap and grabbed the banana that Elio has just peeled for himself, and started eating it. "If Oncle Elly loves you, then I love you, too, because I love Oncle Elly," she said, kissing my cheek. This little monster was also incredibly sweet.

Mafalda brought juice for Marzia, Thierry and Noemie, and Annella insisted that she take a seat and join us. Noemie insisted that I braid her hair, something I had no experience with, having raised only boys, while we had a conversation in mixed Italian and English. Elio kept looking over at Noemie in my lap and smiling warmly at us. By the time we were ready to go swim, I had successfully braided her hair.

Noemie grabbed Elio's hand and dragged him to the pool. I jumped in, and encouraged Noemie to jump into my arms. After letting her splash around for a bit, she climbed onto my shoulders. "Maman, I'm a giant!" she shouted at Marzia, who was sitting nearby in a lounge chair, sipping a glass of wine.

"Wow, you are so tall!" she said, and went back to flipping through her magazine, as Thierry took the seat next to her, put on his sunglasses, and closed his eyes. I could tell she and Thierry were taking full advantage of Elio and me watching their daughter.

When Ari and Vic came down to the pool, Elio climbed out and sat down next to Marzia. They started chatting in French, probably so the boys and I wouldn't understand, or perhaps because it's her native tongue and most of their relationship is in French.

I looked over at Elio, and he was miming throwing coins into the Trevi Fountain, and a few minutes later, he was pointing at the hickey on his shoulder which had all but healed. Mine was mostly gone, too, but I still covered it up with the makeup Elio bought in Rome as a precaution. Marzia squinted and examined his shoulder, then jokingly pushed Elio's arm, and the two of them giggled uncontrollably. I knew that she was his best friend, and trusted that he would keep some details private, but I was happy that he also had a confidante to share things with.

When Thierry took Noemie into the house to use the bathroom, Ari sat at the edge of the pool near where Elio and Marzia were sitting. "Marzia, I hear you and Elio used to be a couple?" he said, raising his eyebrow. I gently tapped him on the knee, trying to tell him to cut it out.

"I would not say we were ever a 'couple' but we've slept together many times throughout the years," she said with a shrug. "Want to hear about how we lost our virginities to each other and then the next night, this jerk ditched me for your father?" She lovingly jabbed Elio in the ribs, showing that she was completely over it and loved him all the same.

Vic started giggling, and I said, "No, Ari does not want to hear about that."

Marzia took a sip of her wine, already her second glass, and said, "So I probably shouldn't tell them about when I thought we got pregnant one summer after university and Elio offered to marry me on the spot."

Elio turned pink. I knew about the pregnancy scare, not the proposal. "But I took a test that afternoon, it was negative, and we obviously didn't get married. He would have been a good father, though. Noemie would have enjoyed an older brother or sister. No way is she ever getting a sibling now, I am not raising a second child. One Noemie is enough for me."

We all laughed, and we saw Noemie run back toward the pool, Thierry following close behind. That quickly ended this conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued kind words.
> 
> This chapter was VERY long, so I split it into two parts. The second part is already written, so I'll have that posted tomorrow.
> 
> I really enjoy reading your comments/thoughts, so keep them coming <3


	60. Sweetcheeks and Stud Muffin, Part Two

_**POV: Oliver, July 21, 2007** _

I wanted to rest for a little while, so Ari and Vic offered to stay in the pool with Noemie. I got out of the pool and went inside to grab my book. I stopped in the kitchen for some water, and Marzia came up behind me.

"Oh, hey Marzia," I said. "Want some water?"

She shook her head. "No, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

I nodded. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say, I have never seen Elio so happy. He loves you even more now than he did back then, if that is possible."

"I love him, too," I said. "He means everything to me."

"I can tell. I am glad that you two are together. Just, make sure that you do not hurt him. He will not recover this time if you leave him, he is in too deep now. It took me a long time to help him heal last time. I do not think that he would heal this time."

"Marzia, I promise that I am never leaving him. I need to ask the boys about it, but I was going to ask him to move in with us in the spring, once he finds placement for the semester. I want nothing more than to be with him."

Marzia stepped closer, and wrapped her hands around my waist, resting her head on my bare chest, hugging me tightly. I awkwardly rubbed the top of her back. "Oh, Oliver! He will love that." she released me and said, "I'll miss seeing him when I'm in New York for work once or twice a year. You two had better come to visit me when I'm there so I can still see Elio. And you." I knew I was the afterthought there, but I was fine with it.

"Of course. If all goes well, Ari will be in college in New York, too."

"Please make sure to take care of him. Obviously he can take care of himself, but sometimes he gets so invested in his thoughts and emotions, and I just want to make sure that he's taken care of, and loved. He needs coddling sometimes."

I chuckled. "That's funny, Annella said the exact thing to me a few weeks ago. We'll take good care of each other, I promise." I raised an eyebrow suggestively, and added, "We already do."

Marzia smirked at my response, and stepped up on her tiptoes to examine my neck. "Elio did some real fine work on you," she said laughing, running her fingers on the remnants of the bruise, which I'd attempted to cover in makeup but the pool had probably washed off. "Remind me to bring my makeup over one day, and I'll show you how to hide those better."

"I'm hoping to not have to hide that in the future... Elio and I need to be a little bit more responsible."

Marzia laughed again. "I am pretty sure this is not the last love bite from Elio you are going to need to cover up. He sometimes loses himself in passion in the moment. I imagine he is even more intense with you, the way he feels about you." 

I smiled, thinking about Elio in the heat of passion. "You're probably right," I said, running my finger over my neck. "Maybe you should show me, the next time you're here."

"We should probably head back outside, join the others," Marzia said.

When we got outside, Jasmine was also in the pool with the boys. She had placed Noemie on a pool float, and aimed Noemie's legs at the boys, using Noemie's kicking and splashing as a weapon to hit the boys with water, while she hid behind the float. They all looked like they were having a great time. I was not looking forward to going back to Massachusetts in a month, as we'd made ourselves a nice big family here.

* * *

Marzia and Thierry stayed for dinner, but went home before we went into town for the book release party. Mafalda had made costumes for the kids, and managed to even find a red wig for Ari. Jasmine used some makeup to draw freckles on his face. He did not look too pleased to be wearing a costume, but I assumed he was doing this for Jasmine. Vic was dressed as Harry Potter, glasses and all, and before she left, Marzia helped straighten his hair with Annella's hair straightener.

Mafalda came over to me, and handed me a fake beard that she had found for me. Vic and Ari began laughing hysterically. "I asked her to make you a Dumbledore costume," Vic said. "We thought if you knew ahead of time, you would say no."

"I'm still saying no. I'm not wearing this," I said, examining the beard.

Elio put it on me, and said between giggles, "I think you look distinguished. You should wear it."

"Fine, but I'm not wearing anything else."

"Is that a promise?" Elio whispered to me. "You promise to wear that and nothing else?"

I playfully nudged him with my hip, hoping the boys didn't hear him. "No pictures, though," I said.

Elio took his camera out of his pocket. "Oh, I am definitely taking a picture of this. Go stand with the boys and Jasmine." Vic handed his camera to Elio to take a picture, too.

We took a photo, and I made a very angry face. Then, Annella made Elio pose with us, and took more pictures.

As the kids started heading out of the villa, Elio whispered, "I am taking more pictures of you in **just** the beard later."

Elio drove us into town, and we walked to the bookstore. We parked in the same alley as where we had parked on our first date this summer, when we couldn't take our hands off of each other in the car. It did not go unnoticed for either of us.

The bookstore was decorated for the occasion. It was probably the most people that had ever been crammed into this store in its long history. They had free food and drinks including wine, "fire whiskey" and "butter beer" for the adults. I was surprised by the number of adults who were there without children.

Ari and Jasmine helped themselves to a drink (Jasmine took a wine, Ari a beer), and scampered off with Vic, who had found Elena and Rocco and their friends. Elio and I wandered around the store, hand in hand.

“Have you read the _Harry Potter_ books?” Elio asked me.

I nodded. “We read the first few out loud to Vic when he was little, and then I read the rest of them because the boys were reading them and I wanted to have something in common to talk about with them. What about you?”

Elio smiled as we turned into another aisle of the bookstore. “Is there anything I haven’t read? Did you think I wouldn't read the most popular books in decades?”

“I should have expected that, shouldn’t I,” I said. We turned into an empty aisle. “So, you proposed to Marzia, eh?”

His cheeks turned rosy, and he leaned against a bookshelf. “It felt like the right thing to do, in the moment. If she was going to keep it, I wanted to always be there for it, and it seemed like the right thing in the spur of the moment. But then she wasn’t pregnant, so it was moot. That was an exciting and terrifying day.”

“That would have been one spoiled baby, your mother would have given that child the world.”

Elio nodded. “I think she’s a little disappointed that I’m not going to have a kid. She would have been a good grandmother. I think she’s trying to be a surrogate grandmother for your boys, now.”

“Do you want to be a father? I see how your face lights up when you’re playing with Noemie.”

He shrugged, and wrapped a hand around my waist, as he stayed propped against the bookcase. “I’ve thought about it, in the abstract. But many of my serious relationships have been with men, so we wouldn’t have accidentally gotten pregnant, and I’m with you now. Being with you is more important to me than raising a child. You are my everything. If I had to choose, I'd choose being with you over having a kid. And I’ll get to help you with your boys. Vic is still young. It’s not like I won’t get to  **be** a father, I just won’t raise a baby.”

“Why does being with me prevent you from having a child of your own?” I asked him. I took off the Dumbledore beard - it didn’t feel appropriate to still be wearing it during this conversation.

“You already have two teenagers. Ari is almost an adult. You don’t want to go through all of that again, with a baby. In five years, your kids will both be out of the house,” he said. “And it’s fine, I love you, Oliver. You, and Ari, and Vic, that’s enough for me. I’ll be happy. I **am** happy, and you’re all I need.”

“Who says I don’t want to go through all that again? Don't make assumptions. Deb and I didn't have another kid partly because her pregnancy with Vic was rough, and she didn't want to physically go through that again." I took Elio's hand with my free hand, and continued. "I don’t think I’m ready to have another kid right this minute, and we’ve only been back together for a few weeks, but I wouldn’t say it’s off the table. Adoption and surrogacy are both expensive and complicated, but I’d be open to visit that with you in the future. I wouldn’t write off having a baby just yet. I don’t want you to miss out on fatherhood because of me,” I said. "I mean, I know that you'll still be a father figure for my boys, but you also don't have to choose between being with me and having a child." I thought about this afternoon, and how it felt to play with Noemie, to braid her hair, to have her on my lap or on my shoulders. When Deb was pregnant with Vic, we had been hoping for a girl. We obviously loved Vic more than anything, and we had decided that two children was more than enough, but I always wished we had tried again for a daughter. I wondered what it would be like raising a child with Elio - he would be a wonderful father. Just a few weeks ago, I had been thinking about how my boys would be the closest thing to a child Elio had, but I had realized that if Elio wanted to have a baby, I would be more than happy to raise another child with him.

“Do you really mean that? You wouldn't be opposed to having a baby?” he asked. I nodded silently. He held back tears, placed his wine down on a bookshelf a few feet from where we were standing, and pinned me against the wall, kissing me roughly. I reached to the nearest shelf and placed down my wine, and then wrapped my arms around his shoulders, running my hands down his back. We made out like this for about ten minutes, when Elio said, “I love you so much. I can’t wait until we get home, I want to fuck you so badly.” We suddenly heard gagging noises a few feet away from us.

“ **UGH, GROSS, WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?** ” Ari shouted. He and Jasmine were holding hands, and they had clearly been looking for an empty aisle to do some kissing of their own. Jasmine waved awkwardly, and covered her mouth to hide the fact that she was giggling. He pulled Jasmine out of the aisle, and muttered to her, “I need to stop walking in on my father like that… I just wanted a quiet place to make out, and now I’ll never be able to unhear what Elio said to my Dad…”

Elio buried his head on my shoulder, embarrassed. “Maybe we need to be more discreet when we’re in the moment, especially when your sons are around…” he said to me. I nodded in agreement. We decided to hold off on the hanky panky for now, and instead, headed back into the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your comments <3 I say this every time, but I really appreciate everyone's kind words and interactions. They let me know I'm not shouting into the void (even though writing this is cathartic for me, so I would probably still do it anyway).
> 
> Writing this chapter brought up fond memories of Harry Potter book release parties of yore. Did you all do anything special when the last book was released? 
> 
> I went to a party with a large group of friends, and we all dressed up in Harry Potter-related paraphernalia. The store we went to had a huge celebration. I won their Harry Potter trivia contest, and won a $300 or so gift card to the bookstore, and wound up just using it to buy the book for all of my friends, so it worked out really well (I think I used whatever was left to buy a textbook the next semester, because I am lame). I then spent the next however many hours reading and sobbing and crying some more. I remember taking the subway the next day, and most of the people in the car had the book on their laps, and half of the car was bawling.
> 
> When I was looking at a calendar of events that happened summer 2007, and I remembered that the last Harry Potter book came out in the middle of the summer I was writing about, I realized I had to integrate it into the story somehow.
> 
> Also, unintentionally burying the lede, but how about Oliver and Elio's talk about kids? <3<3<3 I've had that planned for a long time, and figured this was the right time to drop it in.


	61. Something Magical About This Villa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is NSFW. Also contains VERY minor spoilers for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

_**POV: Ari, July 21-22, 2007** _

Jasmine pulled me into another empty aisle and pinned me against a bookcase, standing on her tiptoes to kiss me. I wasn’t going to let overhearing Dad an Elio get in the way of my night. This night was going to be perfect. I bent down to kiss Jasmine, wrapping my arms tightly around her. Must not think of Elio telling Dad how much he wants to fuck him… and, the mood was ruined.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling away from the kiss. “My dad got in my head. This is the second time I’ve walked into something like that this week.”

Jasmine took my hand and pulled me back toward the party. “I think it’s romantic how they can’t keep their hands off of each other. Think about how it must have been for them twenty years ago, they couldn’t be affectionate in public. They’re just making up for lost time.”

“If it was ANYONE else, I wouldn’t care, but it’s my dad. Also, I really do not want to think about what goes on in their bedroom.”

“Why don’t you think about what’s going to happen in our bedroom in a few hours, instead,” she said coyly, raising an eyebrow. And Elio’s comments were instantly forgotten.

The rest of the book party was surprisingly fun. We won the costume contest as a group (Dad’s Dumbledore beard was the clincher), and Elio translated the questions during the trivia game for us. Unfortunately, we weren’t even close to winning because many of the characters’ names are different in Italian, and the college student running the party refused to accept the English versions. Albus Silente just does not have the same ring as Albus Dumbledore.

At midnight, each of us, including Dad and Elio, bought an English language copy of the book, (Elio also bought a copy in Italian for Marzia), and piled back into the Fiat to head back to the villa. In the past, we’d only purchased one copy for the family, but Dad let us splurge so we could all read it tomorrow. I took off my wig and tie in the car. I did not want to be wearing those later.

* * *

Jasmine led me to the balcony, where we sat overlooking the backyard. “Let’s stay out here for a bit,” she said, settling down opposite me. “I just want to make sure the wine is out of my system.” She grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me in close, kissing me. We kissed on the balcony for a very long time. I think both of us were a bit nervous to move to the bedroom.

Finally, she said, “Do you want to go inside?”

I nodded quickly, and said, “Absolutely. I just need to go run upstairs for a minute, I’ll be there soon.” I ran as quickly as I could to the attic. Vic was still awake, reading _Deathly Hallows_.

“Hedwig! Nooooo!” he shouted. I grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it at him.

“Don’t spoil things for me, jerk,” I said. “I’m going to read the book tomorrow!” I grabbed a t-shirt and pair of gym shorts and quickly changed out of the rest of my costume. I then went into my nightstand, ruffling for the bag with the box of condoms. I grabbed it and went back toward the staircase.

Vic noticed what I had grabbed. “Oh! Are you and Jasmine HAVING SEX?”

I nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Vic placed his thumb and forefinger below his lips and blew a catcalling whistle, and then laughed at himself for making the gesture. “So you won’t be a virgin after tonight.”

I shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Well… have fun? Is that what I’m supposed to say? What does Dad say…” Vic lowered his voice in his imitation of Dad, and wagged his finger. “Always use a condom, even if the girl is on the pill. Better safe than sorry.”

“Thanks, Vic. Just wait until you’re ready to have sex - you’ll get the world’s most uncomfortable talk from Dad about how to make sex good for your partner… speaking of, I’d better get down to Jasmine’s room now. See you in the morning. Don’t stay up too late reading.”

“Don’t stay up too late… erm… just go downstairs already,” he said, laughing.

I waved at Vic with my free hand, and ran down the stairs, jumping two at a time. 

When I got to Jasmine’s room, she had changed into her pajamas. She was sitting on her bed, reading her _Harry Potter_ book. I actually liked that she didn’t try to wear sexy lingerie or whatever you see in movies when a girl is going to sleep with a guy for the first time. There was never any pretense with Jasmine - she never put up a shield, and always showed you exactly who she was.

“Sorry, I was talking to Vic for a bit and decided to change out of my costume,” I said, closing the door behind me.

“It’s okay, I figured as much,” she said, putting a bookmark in her book and placing it on the nightstand. I nervously sat down on the bed beside her.

“I’m really nervous,” I said.

“I am, too. What if it hurts?” Jasmine asked frankly.

I squeezed her shoulder gently, and smiled at her. “If I’m hurting you, then you should tell me, and I’ll stop, or change what I’m doing. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I want to make this as good as possible for you.” _Even in the moment, if she tells you to stop, you stop._  I needed to get Dad’s voice out of my head.

After my comment, Jasmine smirked at me, sat up, and straddled me, pushing me against the headboard. I liked how dominant she was. “You’re really wonderful, do you know that?” she asked, and immediately pressed herself against me, kissing me deeply. I wrapped my arms around her body, running my hands down her back, as she pushed against me, not a single inch separating our bodies.

Eventually, she tugged my shirt off, and she lifted her hands above her head so I could pull her shirt off. She moved off of my lap and sat in front of me while we played this awkward game. I reached around her, and placed my hand at the clasp of her bra. “Is this okay, you can keep this on…” I said, unsure of how to proceed.

“No, it’s ok, you can take it off,” she said, grabbing my hands and helping me find the hooks. It took me a couple of tries, but I was able to open her bra, and I immediately threw it to the floor. I couldn’t help but stare at her chest for a moment - I’d never actually seen her breasts before. They were magnificent.

“I feel weird constantly asking if things are okay, but I don’t want to do something you don’t want me to do.” Dad always said to always ask for consent… “Just stop me if I’m doing something you don’t like or want, okay?” I said. She nodded, and I started kissing her neck and collar bone. I placed a hand on each breast, cupping them, gently squeezing. Her boobs were perfect, I couldn’t believe she was letting me touch them. I ran my thumbs in small circles over her already hard nipples, as I continued to slowly kiss her neck. I was feeling a bit more daring, and gently pushed her down against the mattress, and kissed down her chest, licking, then gently sucking on each nipple for a brief moment.

“Mmmmm,” she muttered, as I continued touching her. Jasmine eventually wrapped her arms around me and rolled us around, so she was on top of me. She noticed that I was hard and my shorts were wet, so she slid off my shorts and boxers in one go.

Jasmine crawled down my body and sat on my thighs. She stroked me gently, and I couldn’t help but whimper. That caused Jasmine to smirk, and decided to progress things further. Brazenly, she gripped me tightly and took my cock in her mouth. “Oooooooh,” I said, unable to control what I was saying, as my eyes rolled back into my head. I bucked my hips up, and she took this as a sign to continue. Her mouth was wet and warm and felt incredible. This was single-handedly the greatest thing that had ever happened to me. The most incredible woman I had ever met was giving me a blow job. Jasmine seemed nervous, but as I groaned happily and excitedly, she picked up her pace and seemed more confident. Sensations were building and my heart was racing, and I felt like I was going to climax soon. “Jasmine, I’m close,” I said, warning her in case she wanted to stop. She did not, and kept going, bobbing her head and applying just the right amount of pressure with her tongue and teeth. I came swiftly, and she swallowed everything, licking my tip and shaft after to clean up any remnants.

“Oh my god,” I said, as she crawled up next to me to cuddle. “Jasmine… that was… wow…” I said between labored breaths, kissing her. After I regained my bearings, I decided that I was going to return the favor. I tugged on her pajama shorts, and she raised her hips so I could pull them off. Then, I laced my finger in the waistband of her panties. “Is this okay?” I asked, and she slid them off for me. I took a good look at her fully naked body. She was absolutely stunning, with her curves and stretch marks and her fantastic boobs. Jasmine hated her body, and I wanted her to know how much I adored and appreciated it.

I pulled her to the edge of the bed, spread her legs, and crawled off the bed, kneeling between her legs. She nodded at me, giving me the go ahead. _Always get consent._ Was I ever not going to think about my father when I was having sex? Maybe that’s why he was so open about these things, in an attempt to kill the mood. But he wasn’t killing the mood tonight.

She placed her legs on my shoulders, and I apprehensively lapped my tongue around. I wasn’t sure what kind of motions or pressures to apply. She moaned softly, almost immediately, and arched her hips up at me, so I knew I was doing something right. Soon, I had gotten into a good rhythm, flicking my tongue around, using my mouth to create a bit of suction, slowly building up speed. I kept at it for some time, and eventually, Jasmine reached down and dug her nails into my scalp, looking for something to hold onto. Suddenly, I felt her muscles contracting beneath me, and her whole body convulsed. She started screaming, and when she realized how loud she was, she grabbed a pillow to muffle her sounds, because it seemed, like me, she couldn’t control her reactions. I thought receiving a blow job was the greatest thing ever, but making her orgasm this way, watching her whole body writhe in pleasure, was possibly even better. I thought about what Dad told me about pleasuring a woman (ugh, just thinking about him using that word, need to stop thinking about my sex talk with Dad...), and how women can have multiple orgasms. Seemed like the right time to experiment with that. I looked up at her and smiled, and then went right back at it for rounds two and three.

After she came for a third time, she motioned for me to stop (I could have done this all night, I loved going down on her), so I crawled next to her. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around her. “Ari… that was… wow,” Jasmine said, out of breath. I certainly felt satisfied - I felt virile, and watching her orgasm was pretty much the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. As she laid on my shoulder, she reached between us, stroking my length once more. I was already hard again, and even just her touch made me wet with anticipation. “I… I’m ready… if you are…”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I reached over to the nightstand, and grabbed the box of condoms. Together, we fumbled with the plastic wrapping on the box, ripping it and throwing it on the floor. Jasmine opened the box, tore off a condom wrapper, and handed it to me, placing the box back on the nightstand next to her book. I slowly tore open the condom wrapper, took the condom out, examined it for any obvious defects, and then sat back as I pinched the tip and slowly rolled it on. This wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be, as I wanted to get it on as quickly as possible without doing it wrong. I prayed I didn’t put it on wrong.

I crawled on top of Jasmine, and she grabbed me and helped guide me inside of her. Oh my god, I was inside of her. I was having sex with a girl. I was having sex with JASMINE. I bit my lip as I steadied myself, slowly thrusting myself into her, trying to figure out how best to go about this. Jasmine grimaced, and I paused. “Do you want me to stop?” I asked her.

“No, this is good, it hurts a little, but it feels good too. I like it. Keep going,” she said.

This had been an incredible night of firsts. The blow job was amazing, going down on her was even better, but this… sex was just something else. Soon, it felt like Jasmine was less nervous and was less tight, and she was getting into it. Our bodies anticipated the other’s movements, and we were in perfect sync. We were both moaning loudly, and I didn’t care that the whole house could probably hear us. At least we were the only bedroom in this corner of the house. Jasmine dug her nails into my back. I had a new favorite sound, and it was Jasmine moaning my name in pleasure. Suddenly, and without warning, I peaked forcefully, and panted heavily.

After pulling out of her and rolling off of her, I tilted my head over and kissed her passionately. As I rolled off the condom, tied it, and wrapped it in a tissue, all I could muster was “WOW.”

“Wow, indeed,” she said, wiping a few beads of sweat off of her brow. “If that’s what sex is like, why did we wait so long to do that?”

I got out of bed, threw the condom in the trash can, and hopped back in. “I have no idea, but all I know is that I want to spend the rest of the summer doing that, with you.”

Jasmine nodded. “All of that, everything we just did… we should definitely do that again, when we wake up in the morning.”

“If that’s the case, maybe we should go to bed right now,” I said. It was very late at this point, anyway. Jasmine kissed me, and we both swiftly fell asleep, sated and exhausted from the night’s activities.

* * *

 

When I awoke, still sleepy, I looked over at Jasmine’s alarm and saw that it was only 7. We’d maybe had four hours of sleep. I turned around, and Jasmine was starting to stir. She noticed that I was awake, and wordlessly nuzzled into me, wrapping her arms around me and kissing me. “I think we should have sex again before breakfast.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” I said, running my thumb along her cheek.

“But I think I should be on top this time.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” I said. “There are hundreds of positions, we won’t know what we like until we try them all.”

After an extended foreplay session, I put on a condom (it was definitely easier the second time), laid back, and Jasmine got on top of me. I liked this position a lot - I’m a lot bigger than Jasmine, and with her on top, I’m not afraid that I’m going to crush her. Plus, it felt really good to have her control everything and be in charge. After a while, she placed her hands on my hips, propping herself up, and began to ride me. “Holy shit,” I said aloud. “This is the hottest thing I have ever seen.” I reached up and cupped her breasts as she rocked on top of me. I reached between her legs and began gently rubbing her. I’d spent nearly the past month doing this for her, so I knew exactly how she liked to be touched, but this was even better than it had been in the past. After a few minutes, her muscles and walls began contracting around me, and she started moaning loudly. I began thrusting my hips upward, faster, and came soon after she did.

We cuddled before breakfast, and couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. “I _really_ liked that position,” I said to her. “I liked being able to see your whole body. You are SO sexy, Jasmine.”

She buried her head in the pillow, embarrassed. “No I’m not…”

I kissed the top of her head, and gently rubbed her back. “Yes, you definitely are. You are my dream girl, in so many ways. I am SO lucky.”

We heard Mafalda ring the breakfast bell, so we decided to go grab breakfast before showering and starting our day. We were definitely going to need an afternoon nap.

I found my boxers on the floor, and threw on the shirt and shorts I had put on when we got back last night. Jasmine dug through her drawers and grabbed a new pair of underwear, a bra, a t-shirt and denim shorts. We walked down to breakfast, and were the last ones to the table. Jasmine sat down, and I looked over at my dad and Elio. Elio was running his hand on Dad’s upper arm and Dad was mindlessly grazing his fingers on the back of Elio’s neck, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck - I’m pretty sure that if they were in the same room, Elio and Dad were always touching each other. I didn’t know if that was gross or sweet.

Dad and Elio both looked over at me, and Dad raised his eyebrow subtly, as if to ask me how things went. I smiled widely at them, and gave them a surreptitious thumbs up. Elio chuckled, and Dad grinned, resting his forehead on Elio’s shoulder. I assumed they were going to have a talk with me later, but for now, I just wanted to eat breakfast and bask in the happiness of the past twelve hours. I still couldn’t believe how lucky I was that Jasmine and I lost our virginities to each other. There was just something magical about this villa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! I've been swamped at work, and haven't had as much time to write. If I don't post things for a few days, I'll usually post an ETA for the next chapter on my [tumblr](https://noodlekugel.tumblr.com/).
> 
> We'll get back to Oliver and Elio in the next chapter, don't worry :)
> 
> Thank you, as always, for all of your comments and support. If you are reading this, you are the best!


	62. Spring Chicken

_**POV: Elio, July 22, 2007** _

“I can’t believe Ari is having sex,” Oliver said to me, as we put our clothes back on after our mid-morning lovemaking. “I trust him, that he’s being respectful and safe, and the fact that he’s sexually active doesn’t bother me, but it still makes me feel old.”

“Oliver, you are only forty-four years old. Maybe I thought that was really old when I was seventeen, but you’re still in the prime of your life.” Oliver nodded, still looking uneasy. I placed my hand on his crotch and grabbed him. “Would an old person be able to get hard this quickly, this many times a day, without the help of a pill?”

He chuckled, and moved my hand. “Fine, I’m a spring chicken.”

I scooted closer to him, and held his hand. “You did a good job with the boys. They’re both really good people. I’m sure Ari was nothing but respectful to Jasmine. And I think you’ve got nothing to worry about with Vic.”

“I’ve got plenty to worry about with Vic. He’s too trusting and naive. He’s sweet and affectionate, and I don’t want that to change, but he needs to be a little more street smart,” Oliver said, lacing his fingers with mine.

“He’s just a kid, he’ll learn. We’ll teach him the ways of the world.”

Oliver smiled. “You said ‘we’. ‘We’ll teach him’.”

“I mean, if we’re going to be together, I need to take some responsibility with your sons. Ari’s almost an adult, but Vic needs a lot of parenting. I already spend a lot of time with him, I imagine it won’t change once we’re back in the states.”

Oliver kissed the top of my head, and wrapped his arm around me. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“I think you showed me about twenty minutes ago, when your tongue was inside of me in an unspeakable place, but I wouldn’t mind you repeating it.”

“I love you, Elio.”

“I love you too, Oliver.” Sometimes there were things I needed to express, and English just wasn’t the right way to do it. Even if Oliver couldn’t understand me, I thought he’d understand the sentiment. “Senza di te non sono niente.”

He held me close to him. “What does that translate to? Is it one of those phrases that doesn't really work in English?”

I shook my head. “No, it just means, without you, I am nothing. But I was thinking it in Italian.”

We sat silently for a few minutes, holding each other. We talked all the time, but sometimes it was nice to just sit quietly, and enjoy each other’s company, thinking about the future.

“Let’s go downstairs and read,” Oliver suggested. We both grabbed our copies of _Harry Potter_ , and went down to the living room. Vic was sitting in my father’s armchair with the book in his lap, and Jasmine and Ari were curled up together in one corner of a sofa, both reading. Oliver and I sat on another couch with our books. He placed the book on the armrest, and I put my head in his lap, curling on my side to read the heavy tome.

* * *

Several hours must have passed, and none of us moved from our spots on the couch. Occasionally, Oliver would play with my hair, or I would change positions, still snuggled up against him. My mother stood in the doorframe, watching us all reading.

“Well, if this isn’t the quietest the villa has ever been,” she said, laughing to herself.

“Shhh,” Vic said, not looking up from his book. “We’re trying to read.”

I placed a bookmark in my book to keep my place, and got up from Oliver’s lap, to go speak to my mother, since we hadn’t really spoken just the two of us in a few days.

We went outside and sat on the bench in the garden. “You and Oliver seem very happy together,” my mother said, in French.

“Oh, we are, maman. He makes me so happy,” I said, with a big grin on my face. I knew that my mother was able to read through every facial expression and movement, and she knew how deliriously happy I was.

“I’m glad. I love Oliver, and I’m really happy that you’ve found your way back to one another.”

“Not happier than I am,” I said. “I still can’t believe that I get to wake up next to him every morning. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s real, that this is really happening to me. I’d built up this idealized version in my head of what Oliver would be like now, but he’s even more incredible than that.”

My mother ruffled my hair. “Have you talked about what you are going to do when you go home after the summer?”

I nodded. “My schedule at Princeton is already set for the fall, but I have several telephone and Skype interviews lined up this week, so I can do a visiting professor position in Boston in the spring. Princeton will allow me to do that.”

“So, a temporary position to make sure things work out, before applying for a full-time job?” she asked.

“Exactly.” She knew me well. “As impetuous as I once was, and as much as I love Oliver, I can’t throw away my career, either. We’ve only ever been together here, at the villa, and I want to make sure that I can fit into his Massachusetts life. I have to be the one to move right now, because of the boys, we both understand that. But I know things will work with him this time. We’re already talking about long-term commitments.”

“What sort of commitments? You’ve only actually been together for a few weeks.”

“I know, maman, but we both know that this is forever. We’ve waited our entire lives for this, he and I both know that we’re in it for good.”

“I know that. We know how you both feel about each other. Why do you think your father agreed to Ari’s silly proposition for an internship? We thought it would be good for you to spend the summer with Oliver again. Ari’s actually been a really great help for your father, but he would have scoffed at having a high school student helping him before this.”

“I figured as much, but I thought part of it was that the Morgenstern men are very difficult to say no to.”

“That, they are. Have you seen how much gelato Mafalda has made because Vic has asked her so sweetly for it?” We both laughed at how much both of Oliver’s boys loved ice cream and gelato.

“When we were in Rome, we talked about possibly getting married one day,” I said, grinning. “Same-sex marriage is legal where Oliver lives.”

“Oh! Elio!” she said happily. “Your father and I have always wanted you to be happy, loved, and successful. We never really thought marriage was in the cards, which was fine, but I am so happy that you said that.”

“What about your father?” My dad said, walking over to us.

“I was telling maman about my plans to move to Boston in the spring to be with Oliver.”

“That’s wonderful, Elio! Do you have any leads for university jobs there?” My father was being practical about this, too. “Do you need me to make some calls?”

“That’s okay, papa. I have a few phone interviews lined up for this week, with Harvard, Boston University, and the New England Conservatory. We’ll see what happens with those. If not, I was telling Oliver that I’ll go on sabbatical in the spring semester and spend the time applying for full-time tenured faculty positions. The chair of the music department at Brown has said that I’m always welcome to come back there, but that would be over an hour commute each way. I’ll take that if I can’t find anything closer to where Oliver lives.”

My father sat down on the bench on my other side and squeezed my shoulder. “Are you happy, Elio?” he asked warmly.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

“And Oliver treats you well?” he asked.

I nodded. “Of course. I don’t think he would ever hurt me again.”

My mother placed a hand on my back, and my father placed his hand on hers. It was in moments like these where I was incredibly thankful for the family I was given. My parents were the two most wonderful people in the world, and I was so grateful for everything they’d ever given me and the way that they raised me. I often felt guilty that I moved to the United States, but I was glad that we always got to spend the summers together.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, because all of the talk was just hypothetical and it’s still early, but yesterday, Oliver said that if I wanted to have a baby, that he would raise a child with me. That if having a child was something I still wanted to do, that I didn’t need to choose between fatherhood and being with him. If it had to be a choice, I would have obviously chosen Oliver.”

I felt my dad squeeze my mother’s hand on my back. “Elly Belly,” was all my father was able to muster.

“I was surprised when Oliver said that to me yesterday. He said that he watches how I act with Noemie, and he didn’t want to deprive me of the joys of fatherhood. I assumed, with two teenagers, that he didn’t want to have any more children, that he was done. That I’d still get to experience being a father, or step-father anyway, with Ari and Vic. I had accepted that I’d never get to raise a child from infancy, and eventually, I’d get to be a grandfather if Ari or Vic have kids in the future. But now that Oliver said this, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“It will be very difficult,” my mother said. “I know times are different now, but when you were a teenager, Isaac and Mounir tried so hard to adopt a child, but they couldn’t find an agency that was able to place them with a child, even an older one.”

I nodded. “I know, maman. If it happens, it’ll still be a few years away. I want to be living together first. And we’d need to talk to his boys about it before we started the process, their opinions matter, too. But, this is something that could happen, the window for having a child hasn’t been closed.”

“If you need us to help pay for anything, surrogacy, or adoption agency fees, let us know. We are more than happy to help with the expenses,” my father said.

“Thank you, papa. This is still a few years down the road.”

Mafalda rang the lunch bell, and we headed to the table to eat the pasta and salad that she had lovingly prepared. The group that was reading inside scampered outside, ready to quickly eat and get back to their book.

Vic was hugging his book close to his chest as he sat down, and put the book on his lap.

“Vic, can you please close the book? You can read after you eat,” Oliver said, as Mafalda poured wine for him.

“Fine, Dad,” he said, putting a napkin in to mark his place and slamming the book shut and placing it on the floor by his feet.

After lunch, Oliver and I grabbed our books, and sat in adjacent chairs by the pool, reading. The kids all followed suit. Ari and Jasmine put down a blanket and laid next to each other, both reading. We all read at different paces, and were at different points of the book, so occasionally, someone would gasp or sniffle, which would make the rest of us laugh. Thierry stopped by later in the afternoon to pick up the copy that I had bought for Marzia. We were all too engrossed in the book to pay much attention to him, but I think he stayed for a while and had a drink with my parents (anything for some quiet time before going back to Marzia’s family’s villa to Noemie).

Even though we mostly sat in silence, this was one of the best days I’d had at the villa this summer. We really felt like a big, happy family, and I didn’t want this summer to end.

* * *

Oliver and I went up to our room to take a nap before dinner. Oliver sat against the headboard, and I sat between his legs, my back pressed against his chest. He kissed my neck and began massaging my shoulders. “Oh, that feels good,” I said, relaxing into his hands. I closed my eyes and let him squeeze out the tension in my shoulders and back. This was a perfect use of his big, strong hands.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. We were fully clothed and not in a compromising position, so Oliver shouted, “Come in!”

Ari opened the door slowly, and came in the room, closing the door behind him. We exchanged greetings and Ari sat at the chair by the computer.

Oliver wrapped his arms around my waist, and rest his chin on my shoulder from his spot behind me.

“Dad… I just wanted to… umm… thank you, for the conversation we had a few days ago.”

“You’re welcome. I take it everything went well last night?” Oliver said.

“Better than well. It was amazing. Jasmine is perfect,” Ari said. If he were a cartoon character, he would have little hearts and birds flying around his head. But then again, that was how I still felt about Oliver. “I just figured you’d want to talk about it, or whatever…” he added.

“Do YOU want to talk about it?” Oliver asked.

“I mean… not really. You told me in the past to keep the specifics to myself. But it was good. There were certain things that I really liked, a lot.”

“I’m glad you had a good first time, with the right girl,” Oliver said. “I hope you realize that I’m not necessarily encouraging you to have sex, but I just want you to be kind and giving, and have a good experience if you are going to do it. You know that you can always talk to me… to us,” he added, squeezing me closer, “about these sorts of things. We are always here for you, if you have any questions, or you’re concerned about anything, or, if you just want to talk.”

We. Oliver said “We.” He was officially including me in his parenting, acknowledging that we were a unit that Ari could talk to about anything, including sex. This was the first time that he had explicitly done this with one of his children. I nodded wordlessly, to let Ari know that he could talk to me, too.

“Thanks Dad, thanks Elio. I’m going to get back downstairs. I want to finish the book before I go online and have the ending ruined for me,” Ari said. “I’ll see you two at dinner.” He left the room, closing the door on his way out.

Once we no longer heard Ari’s footsteps, I snuggled against Oliver, crossing my arms and holding his arms tight against my stomach. “You told Ari that he can always talk ‘to us’, and that ‘We are always here for you…’” I said, with a dopey grin. I was happy that my back was to Oliver, or he might have made fun of how happy I looked and felt.

“I meant it,” Oliver said, kissing my shoulder. “We’re together, you’re my partner in everything now, and I want my children to think of you that way.”

I turned around and sat facing him. “I’ll gladly do whatever I can, whatever you need me to do with the boys.”

Oliver kissed my forehead gently. “I know. I love you, and appreciate you so much.”

“You know how much I love you.” I had a brilliant idea. “Say, remember last night, when you swore you’d only wear the beard and nothing else? You never actually did that… I was too preoccupied with getting you naked last night.”

“Do you want me to go put on the itchy beard?” Oliver asked. I nodded.

“If I’m being honest, it’s more of an excuse to get you naked, but you looked all sorts of sexy in that beard, and I just need to see this one through,” I said with a laugh.

Oliver jumped out of bed, grabbed the beard, and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door. When he came out, he was wearing only the beard, and nothing else.

“This is even sexier than I thought it would be,” I said, getting out of bed. “May I… take a few pictures of this? For that password protected folder?”

“Sure,” he said. “But only if I get to take some pictures of you, as well.”

I immediately stripped off my clothing. “It’s a deal.”

Instead of napping, we spent the time before dinner in a variety of positions, taking some very naughty pictures. Oliver only managed to stay in the beard for a few minutes before taking it off. My favorite picture of Oliver that I took was of him leaning out the window, wearing only Billowy (which I asked him to wear for a while so it would retain his smell), his apricot  and perfect thighs peaking out of the bottom of the shirt. This was the picture, more so than any of the (admittedly sexy and fun to take) pornographic photographs, that I made a note to return to when I was home alone in Princeton on a weeknight, anticipating my weekends with Oliver. This picture embodied everything about this summer. Our non-stop lovemaking, the romance of the villa, the summer heat, and Oliver’s delicious rear end. I told Oliver that I would safely move the pictures to our laptops tomorrow, when we were working in our office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sammy and Annella so much. In retrospect, I really should have included them more in this story.
> 
> Question for those of you still reading - would you rather I have fewer Ari chapters and focus more on Elio and Oliver? My original idea for this story required Ari's POV for the Parent Trap element, but I also wanted to keep his perspective around to see what E/O looked like from outside of their love bubble, and to show how Oliver is as a parent. Now that Oliver and Elio are fully committed and Ari and Jasmine are in their own little love bubble, should I cut the Ari chapters I've planned?
> 
> Thank you, as always, for your comments and kudos! I love interacting with you all in the comments and on tumblr! If you want to chat, don't be shy - feel free to message me on [tumblr!](https://noodlekugel.tumblr.com/)


	63. I Yam What I Yam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an interlude with a little bit of fluff and more than a bit of smut before the story starts to wind down.
> 
> Also, a brief discussion of Morgenstern Halloween costumes of the past in honor of Halloween today.

_**POV: Oliver, July 25, 2007** _

I was so proud of Vic and Elio. In the weeks that we’d been jogging in the mornings, they had both improved significantly. As we headed back to the villa, I said, “When we get back to the States, we should all sign up for a 5K and run it together. It’d give you motivation to run on days we aren’t together,” I said to Elio.

“I don’t really have a choice in the matter, do I?” Elio asked.

“No, I’ve already learned that when he says ‘we should do’ something, it means we are going to do it, but he wants you to think it’s your idea,” Vic said.

Elio laughed and leaned his elbow against Vic’s shoulder. “The two of us can run a mile or so and walk the rest - we’ll let those suckers run the whole thing,” he said to Vic, who chuckled.

“Vic’s school does a 5K fundraiser every Halloween that you’re encouraged to run in costume - it’s low pressure and really fun. That gives us three months to get you ready. But I will make you run the whole thing,” I said, and Ari nodded.

“It’s true, he forced Mom to jog the whole thing in a wig a few years ago, when I was in the eighth grade,” Ari said. “They were dressed as Lucy and Ricky Ricardo, and Mom stupidly wore a red wig instead of just spraying her curly hair red.”

“Any other embarrassing costumes?” Elio asked, catching up to me, and wrapped his arm around my waist.

“Embarrassing, no. No shame in the costume game. Though Deb usually picked out what we were going to wear,” I said.

“He didn’t do the race last year, he didn’t want to after Mom died, but the year before, he was dressed as Ron Burgundy, and the mustache kept falling off. It was really funny,” Vic said.

“Mom just happened to ‘twist her ankle’ two days before and couldn’t run it.” Ari added.

I laughed, I had forgotten that Deb had feigned an injury so she didn’t have to run that year. That made the _I Love Lucy_ year the last time we did a race together. I hadn’t thought about that.

“You kids had some cute costumes over the years. There was the year you were Buzz and Woody, that picture is still on the mantle.”

“I was telling Jasmine about that a few weeks ago,” Ari said.

I turned to Elio. “When Vic was a year old, Deb and I were Olive Oyl and Popeye, we dressed Vic as Swee’Pea, and Deb made Ari into a can of spinach. They were both adorable.”

Ari laughed as we opened the door to the villa. “I hated that costume. I couldn’t move around, and I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just be a Ninja Turtle like the rest of my friends.”

Elio turned to him. “I’m sure, in retrospect, you appreciate the family costume. I mean, you won the _Harry Potter_ costume contest as a family!”

“You know I only did that to appease Jasmine so she’d still want to sleep with me, right?” he said, out of earshot of Vic, but so that both Elio and I heard him.

Elio and I headed back up to our room to shower and get ready for the day while the boys went back to the attic.

As I threw my shirt into a hamper, Elio came over to me and squeezed my bicep. “When you were dressed as Popeye, I bet you didn’t even need fake muscles.”

I flexed for him and Elio licked his lips. “I yam what I yam, and that’s all what I am,” I said, in my best Popeye impression.

“Oof, that was not good,” he said, laughing. Elio then lifted one leg and wrapped his arms around my neck. “I can’t believe we only have a few more weeks left here. I don’t want to leave.”

I pulled him close, placing my hands on his lower back. “It’ll only be four months apart, and we’ll see each other every weekend. I can come down to you sometimes, the travel doesn’t always need to be on you. I’m sure Doris and Agnes wouldn’t mind staying with the boys for a weekend here and there.”

“Ari would insist they didn’t need a sitter and could stay home by themselves,” Elio said.

“You know my boys so well already! He is probably old enough for that, though. I’m just not sure if Vic could handle a weekend without an adult around.”

“But after those four months, we’ll be in the same place. Together.”

“Together,” I said, with a big grin, looking down at Elio. We’d already spent more time as a couple this summer than we had twenty years ago, and I felt happy and warm inside knowing that at the end of the summer, I didn’t have to leave him. Elio was my lover, my partner, my everything, and we both knew we wanted to be together forever.

I quickly shed my shorts and boxers, and walked backward to the bed, laying down and pulling Elio on top of me, sliding off his shorts and boxers. He sat up, and I pulled his sweaty t-shirt off of him. I ran my hands down his chest, kissing his stomach and abdomen. Elio bent down to kiss me, his tongue friskily bouncing against mine. After kissing for a few minutes, he reached over to the night stand and grabbed the bottle of lube from the drawer, moving the condoms so they were easier to access. He made eye contact to make sure it was what I wanted, and then slicked up his finger. I spread my legs for him, and he inserted his finger, slowly moving it in small circles.

“I love you, Elio,” I said, breathing heavily. “Fuck, that feels good.”

He bit his lip in concentration as he removed his hand, added more lube, and added a second finger. With his other hand, he grabbed my length and began tugging at me, applying the exact amount of pressure that drove me wild. When I felt properly warmed up, I muttered, “I want you inside of me, so badly.”

“That works out well, because I really need to be inside of you, right now,” Elio said, grabbing a condom. I tore it open for him since his hands were covered in lube, and he sat on my stomach while he rolled the condom on. I supported myself on my arms as I leaned forward to watch him. There was something inherently sexy about watching Elio put a condom on slowly, as he prepared to fuck me.

I loved how equitable our lovemaking was this time around. Last time, I was on top most of the time, but now that Elio was older, more experienced, he had a dominant side, and I loved letting him take over as he filled me with his cock. I arched my hips, angling to accommodate his entire length. I reached up and mussed his hair as he slowly and gently thrust in me, which made him laugh. “We get to do this, together, for the rest of our lives,” I said, blissfully happy. “This is incredible.”

Elio lasted a while, tenderly and rhythmically rocking his hips, trying to make it as good for me as I know it was for him. He leaned down to kiss me and moaned, “Elio,” as he came and collapsed on my chest.

Once he disposed of the condom, I flipped him over, placing his back to the bed, and straddled him. I’d been on the edge for a long time now, and I needed release. I gripped myself, jerking quickly, as he sat up and watched hungrily. I maintained eye contact the whole time, silently letting him know that he single-handedly made me this insatiably horny. I quickly came, spurting all over his chest and stomach.

* * *

“Have I ever told you how great Vic is at the piano?” Elio asked, as we sat in our office. I kept switching between making edits on a chapter of my book and working on my presentation for the conference at the Sorbonne.

“Pretty frequently, but tell me again. I like hearing you compliment my kid.”

“I’m serious, Oliver, as a professional in music, I think he’s got real potential. I’m going to go into town later and talk to this one bar and see if I can have him perform there next week. I used to play there sometimes as a teenager, and the proprietor is unsurprisingly friends with my parents. He can premiere the piece that I’ve been helping him compose,” Elio said, grabbing his notebook and a pen to jot something down.

“He’s never had his own show before, he’s always been a part of a performance. He’s going to be nervous about it,” I said.

“Then I’ll play something with him, too. We can do another piano and clarinet duet.”

I smiled warmly at Elio, looking over the top of my laptop. He was growing so close with Vic, and he cared about my boy so much. He and Ari got along, but he had bonded with Vic from the start, even before we were together. Their relationship was special, and I hoped it continued to be that way when we got back home.

“That sounds wonderful,” I said. “We can invite everyone - your parents, Marzia and Thierry, Chiara and Fabrizio, even Mafalda and Manfredi and Anchise.”

* * *

I eventually fell back into my work, fine-tuning my speech. “I’m going to make a fool of myself at this conference,” I said.

“No you aren’t. Why don’t you read me what you have so far?”

“Are you sure you want me to bore you with a lecture on philosophy?” I asked.

Elio nodded. “Practice by reading it to me.”

I started reading my speech, and after a few minutes, Elio raised his eyebrow suggestively. “God, you are so sexy when you are in professor mode,” he said.

“Stop it!” I said, laughing. “I thought you were going to help me with my presentation?”

“I was, but when you use big academic words, it turns me on so much,” Elio said.

“Keep it in your pants for a minute,” I joked. “Can I continue?” He nodded, walking over to my side of the table. Elio stood behind me while I read, squeezing my shoulders. He then started kissing my neck. “You’re distracting me,” I said.

“Keep reading,” he said. “I promise I’ll keep it in my pants, but no guarantees about keeping it in your pants.” I was hard almost instantly. Elio got on his knees and unzipped my bathing suit bottoms. “I told you to keep reading,” he said. I continued from where I left off, and he gripped my length, taking me into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I said, my eyes rolling back into my head.

Elio stopped sucking me. “I don’t think that’s part of your presentation. Read me the rest of it. You’ll be servicing my mind, and I’ll keep servicing your cock.”

I liked this naughty side of Elio. I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on what was on the screen, reading out the next paragraph while he slowly, deliberately licked and sucked. Occasionally, I would let out a grunt or a moan between sentences, and he would stop what he was doing until I continued reading. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I gripped the table (or, the laptop, as it was, as it was directly underneath my hand), leaned back into my swiveling chair, and moaned. I came forcefully into his mouth. “Now I’m just going to think of this when I give my presentation,” I said to Elio.

“Well, now you’ll have something positive to think of rather than being nervous,” he said, and licked my length once more.

I opened my eyes, and noticed Howie mouthing wordlessly on the screen. Oh shit, how long had he been videochatting me? I leaned forward toward the computer, and was visible on the screen from the shoulders up.

I looked at the computer, noticed my headphones were plugged in, which is why I hadn’t heard him, so I unplugged them.

“There you are, Ollie. I was wondering where you were, you clicked to chat with me, and then you weren’t on the screen. I was about to disconnect. I just heard some talking and funny noises on your end. I assumed we had a bad connection.”

Pheww, he hadn’t seen anything pornographic.

“What was that?” Elio said, zipping my trunks, rising from his knees and sitting on my lap. He wiped some saliva off of the corner of his lips. I pointed at the computer screen.

“Oh, hi Howie,” he said, his cheeks rosy.

Howie started laughing hysterically. “I seem to be interrupting something… I take it you did not mean to call me just now?”

I shook my head. “Nope, that was an accident. Have a nice morning!” I said, ready to exit the chat window.

“Well, I’m glad someone’s getting some this summer. It looks good on you, Ollie. I can’t wait to meet you in the fall, Elio! I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone…” he said, disconnecting the chat.

I saved my speech and closed my laptop, and we both started laughing hysterically. “I don’t think I’m ever going to live that one down…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you all SO MUCH for your input after the last chapter. I know I'm supposed to be writing ~for me~, but I'm also writing for you all, and I really really appreciate how invested you all are in making this story great.
> 
> I've decided to cut some of the non-plot-progressing Ari chapters going forward, and change things to Elio or Oliver where they are involved (e.g., in the upcoming Paris trip, I was going to have Ari narrate a chapter, but since he's with Elio and Oliver the whole time, there's no reason it can't be from one of their perspectives instead). I'm not cutting Ari's POV completely, just relying on it a bit less since it's less useful/necessary now. I like him too much to cut it out entirely.


	64. It's Heaven

_**POV: Elio, July 27, 2007** _

Vic sat at the piano, a pencil in his mouth, as he played some of what he had written. “What do you think, Elio?” he asked, tucking the pencil behind his ear, dislodging an unruly curl of hair, as I leaned against the piano, standing next to him.

“You would never know you’ve never written anything before,” I said. “It’s really good.”

“Do you mean that? You’re not just being nice to me?” Vic asked. “No one ever gives me honest opinions, they just baby me.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” I took a pencil out from behind my own ear and circled a measure number. “I would maybe switch this passage to a minor key here, and add a few grace notes to the treble line here,” I said, jotting my notes on his music.

“Do you think I’ll be ready by next Thursday?” he asked, sighing.

“Definitely. It’s just a low-key performance at a local bar. It’s zero pressure.”

“Yeah,” Vic said, turning around on the stool at the piano. “For you. For me, it’s my first headlining show. Do you think anyone is even going to come?”

“Of course they are, Vic. Just the people who live and work at this house will fill up the place. Marzia promised that she’d be there with her parents, Noemie and Thierry, Chiara and Fabrizio should be back by then and they’ll be there. And you already confirmed with Elena that she and Rocco will be there with their parents and grandparents. It’ll be a full house.”

“What if I’m not good, or if everyone is bored or disappointed?” he asked sullenly. Oliver said Vic would be nervous, and I wasn’t sure how to comfort him.

“Vic, is anyone ever bored or disappointed when you play after dinner? All of my parents’ guests have been transfixed by your playing - your show won’t be any different,” I said, placing my hand on his back, trying to calm him down. Was it okay to touch him? I think it was okay to touch him like this.

He nodded, and sat back up. “Thanks, Elio. I appreciate all of the help you’ve given me this summer. I think I’ve really gotten better, and I’ve been practicing a lot.”

I smiled at him. “I can tell. You’re a whiz at music theory, too. We’re going to have to find you an advanced music class to take after school or on weekends when you get back.”

After Vic played another piece, he grinned at me. “I’m glad that you and my dad are together. Some people in our family still find it a little weird that you’re male, they don’t understand, but I’ve been emailing with my mom’s cousin Sharon, and she said that after the family meets you at Leah’s Bat Mitzvah, they’ll all come around. You must have impressed her when you talked to her a couple of weeks ago.”

“I don’t know if I impressed her, but she asked me questions about myself and about my history with your father. I was completely honest with her. I told her that I never wanted to replace your mother. I think she understood how much I love your father,” I said honestly.

“Did I tell you that Aunt Doris emailed Ari and me and article written by a rabbi about ‘learning to accept your parent’s new same sex partner and why Jews should recognize same sex relationships?” Vic said, smirking.

I laughed. “No, you didn’t, but I bet it was a hoot to read. She sounds like a character. She was certainly pushy at your Bar Mitzvah.”

“Oh, she is. But she usually means well, she loves everyone in the family.”

I looked at my watch, and our lesson had already run an hour late. I had a telephone interview with Harvard in a couple of hours, and I wanted to prepare. “Why don’t you work on some of the theory worksheets that I prepared, and we’ll go over those tomorrow?” I said.

“That sounds good,” he said. Vic put his notebook down and gathered up his pages. “I’m going to enjoy having you around at home, you’re the only one who understands me sometimes. Though I guess you and Dad will be spending most of your time together alone, so you won’t have that much time for me.”

“That’s not true. I’m always here for you, Vic, and I will make sure that I’ll have time for you in the fall. I promise. By spring, I’ll be moving up to Boston, so I’ll be around more. Even when I’m in Princeton, I’m only a phone call or an email away.”

As he got up, Vic wrapped his arms around me and gave me a tight hug. “Thank you.”

* * *

I took over my Dad’s office for my phone interview, closing the door so no one could interrupt me. The interview went very well. I’d already had two other interviews this week, and Harvard was my top choice, though I supposed it was just for a semester, and it didn’t really matter all that much as long as I was in New England. The head of the music department said he’d get back to me within the next few days.

When I got back to our shared office, Oliver asked how the interview went. “The department chair said he couldn’t wait for me to teach a course there in the spring, but he’ll let me know in a few days. It’s hard to not get my hopes up with a response like that.”

“You’re going to get the position at Harvard, and they’re going to love you so much, they’re going to offer you a tenured full time position,” Oliver said.

“I sincerely hope so. Either way, even if I don’t find something, I’m moving up to your area in the spring.”

“Up to my area?” Oliver asked. “By ‘ _my area_ ’ do you mean ‘ _my bedroom_ ’?”

I didn’t think I could smile wider than I was right now. “Oliver, do you mean that?”

He nodded. “I’d need to talk to the boys first, obviously, to make it official, but I kind of assumed that once you said you were going to move to Boston, that you were just going to move in with us…”

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous, I just figured I’d get a small apartment as close to your house as possible,” I said. I had thought about it over the past few weeks, but I wasn’t sure if me moving in was what Oliver would want, and if Ari and Vic would be okay with it. Well, Vic would be fine with it, but if Ari would be okay with it. “Also, it’s the house you bought and lived in with your wife, I just… I thought you and the boys might find it weird.”

“Our whole situation is weird, but it’s our normal now. We can buy a new house, in Brookline, if that would make you feel better. I want to stay in the same town, though, so the kids are still zoned for the same school.”

I shook my head. “Maybe we can buy a house together, one day. I don’t want to make life complicated for your kids, we don’t need to move them. I just want to be with you, I don’t care where we live or where we are. But maybe you should get a new bed for us. It might be weird to sleep in the same bed that you slept in with your wife.”

Oliver frowned. “I already got a new bed, a few months after Deb died. I also repainted the bedroom and got all new furniture. I wasn’t sleeping at all, and I thought that if I got a new bed, a new room, it would be a new start, and maybe I’d be able to sleep. It didn’t really work. Therapy, time, and sleeping pills worked.”

I got up and sat on his lap, wrapping my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you went through that. I wish I had lived closer, I could have been there to comfort you. As a friend, even, not romantically.”

“I knew what you meant, goose,” he said, kissing the top of my head. We sat contemplatively for a brief moment, and he said, “Elio Perlman, will you move in with me this spring?”

I kissed him gently and said, “Of course I will. I can’t wait for us to start our lives together, in the real world. The villa is too much of a dream.”

“It’s heaven,” Oliver said, pulling me in for a deeper kiss.

* * *

Later that afternoon, I went back into my father’s office to grab a box of pencils. Ari was sitting alone, on his laptop, banging away angrily.

“Everything okay?” I asked, as I opened a drawer looking for some pencils.

“Yeah, I’m just working on one of my summer assignments for AP English. I have to write on a topic of my choice related to _The Sun Also Rises_ ,” Ari said.

“What’ve you got so far?” I asked.

“Not much. Jasmine suggested that I write about the surprising feminist undertones of the story and about how Brett was divorced twice and sexually promiscuous, but I don’t know.”

“When we go to Paris, you can do some research and write about the parallels to the real people Hemingway was probably writing about,” I suggested. “Pretty much everyone in that book is based on some American ex-pat or another living in Paris.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ari said, scratching his head. “But I don’t want to waste my trip to Paris doing research for school. Can I just do the research online?”

“I think so, but I bet after you write the paper, you’re going to want to see the sites mentioned in the book. When your dad is at the conference, I’ll take you boys to Montparnasse and we can see where all of the American writers lived. We can ask Marzia for some suggestions.”

“That sounds nice, thank you Elio,” Ari said. “Do you think you could look over my paper or edit it after I write it? You seem well-versed in Hemingway.”

“Sure, just let me know when you want me to read it, and I’ll do my best,” I said. I hadn’t actually read Hemingway in decades, but I wanted to get in Ari’s good graces, and he seemed to value my help. “Do you think I could borrow the book to re-familiarize myself with it? I’m sure my parents have a copy somewhere, but I have no idea where it would be.”

Ari tossed the book to me. “It’s all yours. Have fun.”

* * *

Oliver and I snuggled in bed that night. My head was on his shoulder, and we were both reading - I was reading the Hemingway, he was reading a colleague’s philosophy book.

“Isn’t that Ari’s summer reading book?” Oliver asked, pressing his reading glasses closer to his eyes to squint at my book and see what I was reading.

“It is, I’m helping him with his assignment. I told him I’d read his paper when he was done, but I haven’t read this book since I was in high school, so I’m trying to catch up.”

Oliver squeezed me close and kissed my cheek. “Thank you for being so good with my boys.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Oliver. I want to be there for them.” We both went back to our books, and read in happy silence.

This was exactly how I pictured domesticity with Oliver, cozy in bed, under a blanket, each of us reading a book. If this was how our lives together were going to be, then everything was going to be perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this was mostly dialogue, but there was a lot that I wanted to cover in this chapter, and it was mostly interaction-based.
> 
> Your comments have all been so wonderful - seriously, thank you for being so kind. (I know I say this every chapter, but I'm still in awe that people are still reading and interacting and enjoying my silly wish-fulfilling story).


	65. Good Old Jewish Guilt

_**POV: Oliver, July 29, 2007** _

I’d never seen either of my children work as hard as Vic had been working at the piano this past week. He was nervous, but if he wanted to become a professional musician one day, he was going to have to play shows, and this was going to be a good experience for him. Either he learned early that he should find another path, or that he enjoyed this and wanted to pursue it. During breakfast, Vic sat on Elio's other side as Elio read through his sheet music, making annotations. I made eye contact with Annella as we both watched Elio with Vic, and we smiled.

“Oliver, when is your conference in Paris again?” Sammy asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“It’s in less than two weeks. I just need to put the finishing touches on my presentation.”

“Dad’s the honored speaker!” Vic shouted, looking up from the sheet music.

“No he’s not,” Ari said, with a mouthful of egg. “He’s just giving a speech, it’s not like he’s the keynote or anything.” Jasmine raised her eyebrow at him.

“Thanks for making my work seem important,” I said to Ari.

“What? Is that not accurate?” he asked.

I took a sip of coffee, and said, “No, you are correct, but I have been assigned to the largest auditorium of the conference, at a prime time. They expect most attendees will go. This will be the biggest presentation I’ve ever given.”

Jasmine looked over at me. “What is your presentation on?”

“The Eleatic School and Zeno’s employment of reductio ad absursdum,” I said, summarizing something that was infinitely more complicated than I wanted to get into at the breakfast table.

Jasmine said, “That sounds like a _Harry Potter_ spell, but I’m sure it’s interesting.”

Ari feigned a yawn. “Those philosophy conferences must be real ragers, eh, Dad?” Ari said with a snicker.

“You’d be surprised at the debauchery at some academic conferences,” Sammy said. “I probably shouldn’t mention the mischief I caught myself in when I was younger.” Annella squeezed his shoulder and laughed.

“Please don’t, Papa,” Elio said, looking up from Vic’s sheet music.

“Oliver, do you want me to look over what you’ve got?” Sammy asked, turning his head to me.

I nodded. “That would be really helpful, thank you! Do you want me to send you my speech, or do you want me to read it?”

“Why don’t you do your presentation, Annella and I can sit and critique it. It’ll be good practice for you.”

Elio smirked at me, as we both remembered our last practice session. “I really appreciate that, Pro, thank you,” I said.

“Come to my office after breakfast, and we’ll run through it,” Sammy said. “And please, you’re family now, call me Sammy.”

“Old habits die hard,” I said, “but I’ll try.” Elio squeezed my hand under the table, and we made brief eye contact. I knew how happy he was that his father referred to me as family. Anytime something small like this happened, my stomach flipped, because it was still so new that Elio and I were a unit, that we were able to plan for a future together. I didn’t think I would ever not feel simultaneously giddy and nervous.

* * *

Sammy and Annella said that they were impressed with my presentation, and thought that I’d be the highlight of the philosophy conference. Sammy gave me a few notes on delivery and made a few suggestions on places to add or drop content, but for the most part, he said that I was set.

I walked through the living room to head upstairs and change into a swimsuit, when I noticed Vic sulking at the piano. He was scribbling on his sheet music and kept banging at the keys.

“You okay?” I asked him.

“I’m not going to have this perfect in three days,” he said.

I walked over to him and placed my hand on his back. “Elio said that everything you’ve written is really good, and I’ve heard you play for your entire life, you are great.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I’m still really nervous. What if I make mistakes or people don’t like my song?”

“Hey Pup, can I tell you a secret? No one will know if you’ve made mistakes. Just keep playing, and everyone will enjoy it. I know I will.”

“That’s because you’re my dad, you have to like it, or at least pretend to like it,” Vic said, sighing.

“Vic, I promise everything will go well. Why don’t you ask Marzia what she thinks after the presentation - you’ve seen how honest she is, to a fault. She’ll give you honest feedback.”

Vic nodded. “That’s a good idea, thank you.”

“Are you going to go outside today, or are you going to sit at the piano all day?” I asked, making sure that Vic was still trying to be a kid and enjoy his summer.

“Maybe I’ll go swimming at some point, but probably sit here all day. Ari and Jasmine already left, and I don’t really want to go into town by myself, but I have to practice the clarinet, too. Elio and I are playing a duet with him on piano.”

I kissed the top of his head, something I hadn’t done in a long time, but it seemed to calm him down a bit. “Just, don’t stress out too much. This is just supposed to be a fun performance for friends and family. I love you, Pup.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

* * *

While Elio and I were lounging around in the pool, Annella came outside to tell us that Elio had a phone call, and brought him the wireless phone. Elio was speaking French, so I assumed it was Marzia. I wasn’t really sure what they were talking about, but I loved listening to him speak in French.

After Elio gave the phone back to his mother, he jumped back in the pool and wrapped his arms around me. I kissed him gently, enveloping him with my arms.

“Want to go on a double date tonight with Marzia and Thierry? Her parents have offered to watch Noemie for the night.”

I smiled at Elio and said, “Sure, that sounds like fun.” Elio pushed me against the wall of the pool, and kissed me deeper. “When we’re in bed tonight, you should definitely say some dirty things to me in French. I love listening to you speak in other languages, even if I can’t always understand what you’re saying.”

“Voulez vous coucher avec moi?” he whispered into my ear.

“Oui,” I said, kissing his neck. “That, I understood.”

Elio slipped his hand up my thigh, grabbing my cock underneath my swimming trunks. I let out a quiet moan, and pushed his hand away. “Elio, not here. Discretion, remember? My son could come outside, and we don’t need both of my boys talking about us in therapy.”

“Then let’s go back to our room,” he suggested.

I jumped out of the pool, wrapped a towel around my waist, and Elio and I scampered off to our room for some late morning hanky panky. After, as we cuddled in bed, I said, “How are we going to survive not doing this ten times a day when we go back to the States?”

Elio nuzzled his head against my chest and ran his fingers through my chest hair. “We’ll talk every night, and we have our photos to tide us over until the weekends.”

“Even on the weekends, we’ll have to grade papers and prepare lectures and take the boys to their games and music lessons and school events,” I said.

“But we’ll be together, so let’s just make the most of the rest of this summer, then,” Elio said, and I squeezed him tight. “If you couldn’t tell, it’s been pretty difficult for me to keep my hands off of you.”

He wasn’t lying - Elio was always touching me. Even if we were in our office, or at the table outside, his hand was always on my arm or his foot on mine. “We’ve definitely been making the most of our summer.”

“I know I keep saying this, but I still can’t believe that we’re together,” he said. “I keep touching you, I can’t stop wanting to kiss you or be with you, because then I might wake up and this won’t be real anymore.”

“It’s real. I will always be here for you. With you. We’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, if you’ll have me. We’re going to live together, raise my kids together, get married and maybe have another kid together.”

Elio grinned. “You said get married, but you said maybe have another kid together. You want to marry me,” he said, in a sing-songy voice.

“Didn’t we already talk about this at the Trevi Fountain?” I asked, sitting up, my back against the headboard. He followed me and sat up next to me, resting his head on my shoulder.

“I know, but this was more definitive this time.”

I nodded. “It’s not an official proposal or anything, I would want to do that the right way in the future. We need to be realistic and see how everything works in the spring. You know that I have to think about how things affect my boys. But I know that I want to be with you.”

“Well, you know that I want to be with you, and marry you one day,” Elio said, kissing my cheek.

* * *

Thierry picked us up in Marzia's parents' car and drove us into town. Elio whispered that it was a shame we weren't going in our own car like the last date in town.

We went to a restaurant that specializes in meat and fish dishes. Despite my best attempts at eating healthy, I ordered a steak. Elio ordered the flounder, so we decided to share our dinners.

Over a bottle of wine, Marzia told us about her busy work schedule for the next year. On top of her trips to New York, she had business trips planned to London, Brussels, and if her boss approved it, Tokyo, which she would make into an extended vacation and take Noemie and Thierry.

"It's a busy time in fashion merchandising," I said.

"Thierry does not love when I leave him alone with Noemie for a few days, but he does appreciate the things I bring him back."

"Especially the chocolate and beer I have been promised from Brussels," he said. "But that is barely a work trip, you have done that in the same day before, the train is just over an hour."

"That is the less exciting trip for me, it is more business and less fashion," Marzia said, pouring herself more wine.

We ordered a second bottle of wine as we told them about our plans for the year. "So I should hear back from the schools I interviewed with this week, and then I'll at least have something lined up for the spring so I can move up to Boston to be with Oliver and his sons," he said, kissing my cheek. Marzia cooed when Elio did this.

I surreptitiously placed my hand on his upper thigh, slowly making my way to his crotch. He nuzzled against me, and didn't move my hand away, so I kept at it, as I could feel him getting hard under my hand.

"It's not a done deal yet, I need to make sure the boys are okay with Elio living with us."

"Don't you already live together now?" Thierry asked.

"Yes, but we're guests in his family's villa. They might see it differently, in the house they grew up in."

Marzia smiled. "Why would they have a problem with it, though? Were they not the ones that pushed you two together?"

"True," I said, pouring myself more wine, "But I know my boys, and I think there's going to be a difference between 'set Dad up' and 'Dad's partner is going to live with us permanently'. I think they'll say yes, but they have to be a part of the decision, I can't just force it on them, no matter how much they love Elio. And how can you not love Elio," I said, looking at him and grinning, never once stopping my motions on his lap. Elio made a soft moan only I heard and gulped.

Elio reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and pushed a few buttons until it began to ring. "I'm going to go step outside to take this," he said, giving me a secretive come hither glance. "Someone is calling from the villa."

He ran outside, and pretended to answer his phone. "I should go make sure that everything is okay with my boys," I said, following Elio outside.

He turned the corner into a dark, empty alley behind the restaurant. I caught up with him, and immediately pushed him against the wall, kissing him passionately. I was a little tipsy, and didn't care if anyone saw us.

"This was why you came outside, right?" I asked, kissing his neck.

"Mhmm," he said, tilting his head to give me more access.

"We won't have much time before Marzia and Thierry get suspicious," I said, lacing my forefinger into the waist of his slacks. Before we went back in to finish dinner, I needed to get him off. It was a necessity - the flirty stares and the way he'd coiffed his hair today so that the curls landed just so. He was irresistible.

I started to unbutton and unzip his slacks. "Is this okay, out here?" I asked. He nodded, so I pulled his pants to his knees and slid his erection through the fly of his boxers. "Have to make this quick and dirty," I added, getting on my knees.

I quickly and forcefully took him in my mouth. Elio groaned and leaned back against the wall for support. It didn't take him long to climax, so I licked him clean, stood up, and helped him refasten his zipper and button.

"Fuck, Oliver, I didn't think I was going to last the rest of dinner with you touching me like that," he said, as we walked back to the restaurant.

"To be fair, you didn't last through dinner," I said, with a devious grin.

"I like when you get handsy with me like that, especially in public. Also, I have definitely had dirty dreams where you did that for me in public, except you were wearing less clothing in those."

We went back to the table, and Marzia asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah, everything is fine," Elio said.

"Umm, it was just Ari, panicking about a college application."

We resumed our dinner, enjoying the appetizers the waiter brought out. A few minutes later, we saw Ari and Jasmine walk into the restaurant, on a date of their own. He was wearing khakis and a dark red button down, and she was in a blue flowery dress. Marzia waved at them, encouraging them to come over, and Jasmine smiled and waved back. Ari was definitely swearing under his breath.

"Ari called about college applications?" Marzia said, winking at us. "Jasmine, Ari, do you two want to join us? I'm sure they could move over a table."

"No, that's okay, we were coming here on a date," Ari said.

"So are we, we are on a double date. We can make it a triple," Marzia said, flagging down the waiter.

"If you don't think we're imposing," Jasmine said.

"Of course not," Elio said. The waiter placed two chairs at the table, one next to me and one next to Thierry. Ari begrudgingly sat next to me.

"Hi Ari," I said.

"Ugh, hi Dad," he said, taking a menu from the waiter. Thierry ordered more calamari and a cheese plate while we waited for Ari and Jasmine to order their entrees.

"Order what you want, we'll pay for it," I told Ari, who clearly did not want to be there with us. Ari ordered the same steak I did, at the same medium rare temperature - like father, like son.

The waiter poured a glass of wine for each of them. Ari looked at me before I nodded that it was okay for him to drink. He chugged his glass and quickly poured a second.

"Wow, I have never seen you two sitting next to each other before, but Ari is the spitting image of you, Oliver," Thierry said.

"I have my mom's nose, though. I'd like to think I'm better looking than Dad. At least I don't have a receding hairline," Ari said with a smirk.

I touched my hairline. Considering my age, I still didn't have a bald spot and my hair was barely thinning. Was my hairline receding? Was I that vain that I cared? Elio rubbed my back and said, "He's just kidding, Oliver. Your hair is the same as the day I met you, just shorter."

The waiter brought us more appetizers, and the conversation flowed as we ate and drank. Jasmine always got along with the adults, but Ari was surprisingly chatty. Marzia and Thierry asked him what he wanted to do in college, and Ari said that he's strongly considering a classics major - the summer work with Professor Perlman was showing him that he might actually want to be a professor one day.

"So, as the son of two professors, the thought never crossed your mind before this summer?" I asked jokingly.

"I mean, it had, but this is the first time I've really thought hard about it. Pro has been explaining the process to me, has been telling me what I'll need to do to get into a good PhD program. He's helping Jasmine, too, but she's already in college studying the field. Also, she knows what she wants to do and needs less direction," he said, smiling at Jasmine.

"What about law school? You were thinking about that as a possibility," Jasmine said.

"Well, like Pro said, if I major in classics, I could also apply to law school or other graduate programs. It won't really limit my post-college options."

Was my son actually growing up? He was thinking about his post-college options! Sometimes he couldn't think as far ahead as dinner! I was so proud of him, but I didn't want to embarrass him, so I just looked over and smiled.

"How's your paper on _The Sun Also Rises_ coming along?" Elio asked.

"He's been working hard on that," Jasmine said.

"It's coming along, I'll have something for you to read in a couple of days. Thanks for helping," Ari said.

"Of course! I'm glad I can be of some help. I finished rereading it, I forgot how much I liked Hemingway."

"You're the only one," Ari said. "He rambles too much about things that don't affect the outcome of the story."

"That's some of his charm!" Elio said. "He makes you visualize his sceneries and characters so well!"

The rest of dinner breezed by in a haze of wine, beef, and chocolate tort. Ari and Jasmine were too tipsy to ride their bikes back, so we asked the restaurant if we could leave them and pick them up tomorrow. We piled into Marzia's family's car. Elio sat on my lap, since I wouldn't let the kids do that, and there wasn't enough room for all of us otherwise. I held his waist tight, and was thankful the road wasn't particularly bumpy or long.

Once we were back at the villa, we said good night to Ari and Jasmine, and we headed up to our room. After stripping down to our boxers, we jumped into bed and cuddled. For probably the first night since we got back together, we didn’t immediately jump each other’s bones. Instead, we held each other contentedly. I loved Elio so much. We just had a wonderful meal with Elio’s best friend, my son, and their partners. This is what our lives together were going to be like. This was what our summers would be like going forward. Good old Jewish guilt was creeping up on me, for feeling this happy.

“I love this, Oliver,” Elio said, nestling into me. I kissed his forehead and sighed happily.

“I love this, too. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.” In my alcohol-induced honesty, I included, “Sometimes I just feel guilty that we get to be this happy, together, because Deb died.”

“Oliver,” Elio said, brushing my cheek. “You can’t think about it that way. You’re allowed to be happy, I assume she’d want you to be happy. The boys want you to be happy. Just let yourself be happy.”

I nodded. He was right, but sometimes it was hard to shake this feeling. “I love you, Elio.”

We kissed softly for a bit, and then both drifted off to a pleasant, dream-filled slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - I'm having computer issues and am working with a borrowed computer while I wait for my computer to be fixed. The story is backed up on both a thumb drive and google docs, but it's hard to post on my phone or tablet. Might be able to post a chapter tomorrow if I can still use this borrowed computer, otherwise, it might be another week or so (also, I'm doing some traveling).
> 
> Reference to Hemingway was a subtle jab at myself (not that I am Hemingway, just that I write way too much that doesn't ultimately affect the plot).
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support. You are the best.


	66. The Concert

_**POV: Ari, July 31-August 1, 2007** _

Yesterday afternoon, Dad took Vic and me into town so he could buy Vic a new outfit to wear for his show today. Vic had simultaneously grown an inch and lost some weight since the summer began - when he tried on his nice slacks yesterday, they were too short on him, and instead of asking Mafalda to hem one of mine or Elio’s for him, Dad said he’d buy him something new. We rode our bikes, and stopped for gelato after going into the only clothing store, where Vic had settled on a pair of navy slacks, a pale blue button down, and a red and blue striped tie.

After we ordered our gelato, Dad took us outside and sat down at a table in the town square so we could chat. “How are things going with you and Jasmine?” Dad asked.

“They’re going well. REALLY well,” I said, grinning. He told me not to tell him the details of my sex life, so I wasn’t going to tell him that Jasmine and I were having a LOT of really, really great sex. I was sure he’d be able to infer that from my smile, anyway.

“Are you two going to stay together after the summer ends?” Dad asked, likely thinking about his own summer romance with Elio his first summer here.

I shrugged. “I mean, I like her more than I’ve ever liked another girl before, and I would like to keep seeing her when we get back home, but we haven’t actually talked about what we are or where this is going. We probably should have done that before we started sleeping together...” I said.

“Well, I like Jasmine, and I hope you stay together, because it means she’ll still be my friend,” Vic said, licking his spoon.

“I think she’ll still talk to you, even if we aren’t together,” I said. “You two were spending time just the two of you before we were even hooking up - I don’t think she’d ignore you if things went sour with me.”

Dad nodded in agreement, and we all continued eating our ice cream. “Hey, can I talk to you kids about something for a second?” he asked a few minutes later, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Sure, Dad, what’s up?” I asked.

Dad cleared his throat. “So, as you know, things with Elio have gotten very serious, very quickly…”

“Are you two getting married?” Vic interjected excitedly.

“No… I mean, it’s not out of the question, I’d like to, one day, but that’s not what I was going to say. Yesterday, Elio heard back from Harvard, and they’ve offered him a visiting professor position for the spring semester, and he’s going to try to get a full-time position after that.”

“That’s great!” Vic said. “He’ll be around more!”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you boys about. Would you be okay if I asked Elio to move in with us?”

Without missing a beat, Vic shouted, “Yeah! That’s great!”

“What about you, Ari?” Dad asked. Way to put me on the spot like that. On the one hand, I did like Elio, and Dad was clearly crazy for him. And, we technically already lived with him now. But, this was different. This was going to be in our house. Our home. The home we had lived in with Mom.

“I… I guess that’s fine,” I said apprehensively. “He makes you happy, and I assumed he was going to stay with us on weekends in the fall, it makes sense that he would move in.”

“Ari, if you’re not comfortable with it, it’s okay, this is a big change for all of us,” Dad said.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind if he moves in. I like Elio, and you two are together. It makes sense, and if he’s going to spend all of his time at our house anyway. Why should he have to get his own place? Especially if he might be our step-father one day,” I said.

Dad wrapped his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. Ugh, I hated when he was affectionate like that. “Thank you, Ari. You’re allowed to change your mind before he moves in, you know.”

“I’ll be going away to college next year, so it’s really only a few months. And I assume we’ll be back here again next summer as it is.”

Vic grinned widely. “Are we really going to be here every summer? I love it here!”

“I don’t think Annella or Sammy would have it any other way, I think they’ll expect us to visit every chance we can get,” Dad said.

* * *

That evening, Jasmine and I went for a night swim after dinner at the lake closest to the villa.

While we were wading around, I thought about what Dad said, about what we were going to do in the fall. “You know, we’ve never really talked about what we are, and what’s going to happen after the summer,” I said, frowning a bit.

Jasmine gave me a sad look. “Do you want to end things?" she asked, tears pooling in her eyes.

"No! No, absolutely not! I really like you, Jasmine. I... I want to stay together, after summer, if you do. I mean, there's a chance I'll be a few blocks away from you next fall, so it would only really be a year of long distance..."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me forcefully. "I don't want to break up, either," she said. "But I can't really afford traveling up to Boston that often," she said. "Will we be able to go without seeing each other that often?"

I nodded. "I think so. We can talk on the phone and video chat. And I think my Dad would buy my train tickets to go down and see you on some weekends."

"Does that make us officially a couple? I know we never really put a label on this..."

I grinned at her. "Jasmine Jenkins, will you be my girlfriend?"

Jasmine giggled and nodded, "Only if you, Ariel Morgenstern, will be my boyfriend," she said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

We laughed and swam around some more. Jasmine was my girlfriend. I had a girlfriend, with whom I was having a lot of really fantastic sex. A girlfriend who gave really great blowjobs. A funny, smart, and nerdy girlfriend who was going to win a Nobel Prize or a MacArthur Genius Grant one day. This was the best summer of my life.

"I wish my mom could have met you," I said. "She would have loved you."

"I wish I could have met her too, but from the stories you and Vic have told me, she definitely lives in in both of you."

As we swam some more and kissed some more, Jasmine played with the Star of David charm on my necklace. "How come your whole family wears these if you aren't religious at all? You don't pray or keep Kosher," she asked.

I shrugged. "My parents gave it to me at my Bar Mitzvah, that's when Vic got his, too. And my Dad. Not that getting a Jewish star necklace at Bar Mitzvahs is a thing, but I guess it is in my family. I only really take it off when I'm playing sports. Dad says he wears his because he was the only Jew in his small New England town and his family didn't want to hide who they were. They'd been persecuted in Europe - one set of grandparents came here from Russia, where they'd survived pogroms, and his grandmother had moved here from Poland right before World War II and lost her parents and most of her siblings in the Holocaust. They were free to practice religion as they wanted in the US. The way we Morgensterns practice today is that we go to temple on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, have a Passover seder, and light the menorah on Chanukah. We're only religious four times a year, plus at life events, like weddings and funerals and Bar Mitzvahs and Brises. Like, in the moments where it might mean something when you die or whatever."

Jasmine nodded in understanding. "That makes sense. My family goes to church every Sunday, but I stopped going in high school because I had too much work to do and I wasn't really sure what I believed anymore."

"I don't know what I believe either. I like being Jewish, I like the sense of community and the culture and the history. I'm not completely sold on the religious aspect, but it's more of a culture to me. It's part of who I am. "

"I like who you are," Jasmine said, with a smile.

* * *

Anchise drove Dad, Elio, Vic and me to the bar an hour before Vic's show so Elio and Vic could set up. The rest of the villa would be arriving later in the Perlman family Fiat.

Vic tuned his clarinet and then sat at the piano in the corner of the bar to warm up. He looked visibly nervous, so I went over to check on him. Dad and Elio were sitting at a table, going over a list of people who had said they were attending. They were holding hands, and Dad was rubbing his thumb on Elio's palm as they looked over the paper together.

"Everything okay?" I asked, leaning against the piano.

"No, I feel like I'm going to throw up," he said, breathing quickly.

I rubbed his back, trying to calm him down. "Vic you're going to be great. How many concerts have you played in the past? How many solos have you had? You're going to kick ass," I said.

"Yeah, but other than you and Dad and Mom, no one ever came to my concerts to see ME. I just happened to be playing. I'm going to screw up and embarrass myself and Elio and this bar for letting me play here."

I laughed. "Vic, you know you're going to do great. You're the best musician I know, even better than Elio, and everyone is going to love it."

“You and Dad are just saying that to make me feel better,” he said, sulking.

I shook my head. “No, I really mean it. Have I ever given you a false compliment before? You know me, you know that I put you down or make fun of you whenever I can - that's my job as your big brother. I mean it, you are going to have a great performance, and everyone that’s coming is going to enjoy it.”

Vic nodded in understanding. I think that made him feel better. “What if no one comes?”

“People will be here, but if they don’t, then you’ll just put on a show for Dad and me. We’re your two biggest fans, anyway.”

Vic wrapped his arms around me and gave me a hug. “Thank you, Ari, that made me feel better,” he said.

I patted his shoulder and said, “Break a leg! Now, go put on those fancy clothes Dad bought you yesterday.” He grabbed the bag with his change of clothes, and went into the bathroom to change.

I went to the bar, got myself a beer, and sat down at the table next to Dad and Elio. Watching them interact, seeing them together, was still weird, but I thought that Vic and I did the right thing by orchestrating this whole summer, and setting them up. I knew that Dad did love Mom, but he had never touched her the way he touched Elio’s face or arm, never kissed her the way he kissed Elio. He and Elio shared such a passion, with such intimacy - I'd never really seen **any** couple as intense as Dad and Elio. Sure, Mom and Dad kissed each other, but they never acted like the only person they saw in the room was each other. Sometimes it felt like my childhood was a lie - that Mom and Dad were faking a happy life together, knowing that the person he truly loved was somewhere else.

A few days ago, Vic and I talked about how strange it was that Dad’s soulmate wasn’t Mom, but Elio. We both saw it. Other times I realized that Dad did what he had to in the 80s, he couldn’t be with a man, not publicly, not without taking major risks, and Dad was not a risk-taker. Being with Elio now was the biggest risk he’d ever taken. If he was going to be with someone, Mom was the best, so it wasn’t as if they had a bad life together. Mom and Dad were good together, they made a good team. I wonder if that’s all they were, though - a team. Also, I wouldn’t be here, Vic wouldn’t be here, if he hadn’t made the decision to leave Elio back then.

Elio and Dad barely even noticed that I was sitting a few feet away from them. They were now talking about arrangements for Paris the next week, and they never broke eye contact or stopped touching each other. I watched the way Elio looked at Dad with a toothy smile and his eyes full of love, and how he gently squeezed his hand when he thought no one was looking. I hadn’t really thought out the consequences and the impact it would have on my life, and I wasn’t sure what it was going to be like having Elio around permanently, when he moved in with us, but all I knew was that Dad was going to be happy. Elio seemed like he would do anything to make Dad happy, and by proxy, Vic and me, so hopefully he would stay out of my hair and let me do what I wanted. Also, there was the time he smoked pot with me, so he was probably going to be pretty cool. I just hoped the road ahead would be easy for them.

A few minutes later, Vic came out and went over to Dad so he could help him tie his tie. Dad smiled at Vic and told him how proud of him he was, and reiterated how great the show was going to be.

Soon, people started arriving at the bar. The Professor arrived with Annella, Jasmine, Mafalda and Manfredi, and Anchise soon came back after running some errands in town. Marzia and Thierry brought Noemie, along with her parents (whom I’d met when they’d come over once for dinner a few weeks ago). Rocco and Elena came with their parents, grandparents, and their Aunt Chiara and her boyfriend Fabrizio. Most of the teenagers we’d been hanging out with came, too, like Pia and Gio, some with their parents, most of whom said hello to Elio or Professor Perlman and Annella. Even Carmela, the lady who runs the gelato shop down the block, came by, but she had made her love of Vic known since the beginning of the summer. The bar was getting crowded, and it was getting to be standing room only.

Elio ushered Vic to the makeshift stage area, where the piano was situated in the corner, and said something in Italian to the audience that I didn’t understand. He nudged Vic, and told him to say something. “Uhh, Hi everyone. Thank you so much for coming. It means a lot to me that you’re here, and I hope you enjoy the pieces that Elio and I have prepared for you.” Elio translated into Italian for the few people in the room who spoke no English, and then he took a seat at the piano. Vic moved a music stand to the center, and picked up his clarinet. They played a duet, which was surprisingly good. Noemie stood on her chair during the piece and screamed, “Yay Oncle Elly!”, which made everyone laugh. Otherwise, she was shockingly well-behaved.

After their second song together, Elio stood up from the piano, and let Vic take the bench. Elio joined Dad, Jasmine and me at our table, and sat down next to Dad, who whispered “Good job!” to Elio. They quickly kissed, and Dad mussed Elio’s hair a bit as they smiled at each other before wrapping his arm around him. I would have jokingly made a gagging gesture to them, but my arm was around Jasmine (my girlfriend!), so I would have been a giant hypocrite.

Vic played by himself for at least 45 minutes. I have no idea how many pieces he played, because classical music is boring like that, but he was really good, probably the best he’d ever played. All of his work with Elio had paid off, because he was killing it. I quit piano lessons a decade ago so I’m no expert, but I could see that his posture was better, he played with more confidence, and the pieces sounded more complicated than the ones he usually plays.

“For my last piece, I’m going to play something that I composed myself this summer, with Elio’s help. It's the first piece I've ever written. Elio has been teaching me piano and composition all summer, and none of this would have been possible without him. Elio, can you stand up for a second?” he asked, and Elio shyly stood up. “Please, give Elio a round, he’s been the greatest teacher and a good friend, and he deserves all of the applause we can give him.” Everyone clapped for Elio, and Jasmine and I whistled and cheered loudly. After everyone quieted down, Vic continued. “Anyway, this is the first time I’m playing this, and I hope you all enjoy it.”

Vic played the piece that he’d composed. I’d already listened to him play it, but he’d made some changes over the past few days, not that I could really tell that much. Either way, he was actually great. “I can’t believe Vic wrote this,” I whispered to Dad, who shushed me so he could listen. When he was done, everyone stood up and cheered. Vic bowed, and looked flustered by the standing ovation. Dad and Elio got up and each gave Vic a tight hug. I followed them and gave him a hug of my own. “Vic, you were so good!” I said, honestly.

“Thank you, Ari!” he said, grinning. “Do you think people liked it?”

“Look at everyone, I think they all loved it,” I said, as Noemie ran over to Vic and hugged his leg.

“Vic! That was fun! You are so good at piano!” she said, grinning. “You and Elio should teach me how to play! I want to play just like you!”

Vic rubbed Noemie’s head and smiled. “I’d love to teach you. Maybe next summer when you’re a little older? I can teach you piano and you can teach me ballet,” he said.

“Yay!” she shouted, and started running around the bar, pretending to be a ballerina.

As Vic mingled around the bar, Dad and Elio stood to the side smiling, watching him walking around the room, shaking hands and thanking everyone for being there. Dad’s hand was on Elio’s back, and they both looked so proud.

Elena walked over to Vic, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and walked back over to her parents and grandparents, blushing crimson.

Professor Perlman cleared his throat and called the room to attention. In both Italian and English, he called for the room to raise a glass and toast to Vic, who turned bright red.

Carmela walked in the front door (I never noticed that she had left), carrying a cardboard box. She had made an ice cream cake for Vic, and called him over to have the first slice. Vic looked simultaneously happy and overwhelmed by all of the positive attention.

We spent the rest of the afternoon eating and drinking at the bar, celebrating Vic, our new friends and family in Italy, and this wonderful, life-changing summer that none of us would ever forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ari is back! and, I have a working computer again!
> 
> I was referencing Bob's Burgers when Ari says, "... Vic wrote this?" - in the episode, "Topsy," when the kids perform "Electric Love," Bob says to Linda, "Gene wrote this?"
> 
> This story is winding down - only a few chapters left, and then I'm going to take a couple of weeks off before I start posting the sequel.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with the story, your comments and support make me so happy.


	67. You Gave Us Back Our Dad

_**POV: Elio, August 7-8, 2007** _

“Hey Oliver?” I said, as we were stripping off our sweaty gym clothes from our morning run.

“Yes, Elio?” he said, pulling off his shirt, showing off his hairy, glistening chest and abdomen. How I wanted to lick the sweat off of him, but I restrained myself for the time being.

“Do you remember that series of horny, drunk emails you sent me after you came to visit?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, looking embarrassed.

I smirked at him. “We never did reenact the entirety of your pornographic Doctor Seuss story…”

Oliver raised his eyebrow. “Oh? I think I remember something about the kitchen table, I’m pretty sure that’s out of the question.”

“That, and the piano, and by the pool, all not realistic right now, but maybe if the opportunity presents itself before the summer’s end,” I said, stepping closer to him and running my hand down his chest.

“I was pretty drunk when I wrote that. And incredibly horny,” Oliver said, placing his hand on the small of my back.

“I like it when you’re incredibly horny - I reap the benefits,” I said, as I moved my hand further south, hooking my finger in the waistband of his running shorts. “You seem to be horny a lot lately.”

“It’s not that I’m always horny - it’s just what you do to me. You drive me crazy, Elio. I love everything about you.”

“Tell me what you love about me,” I said, kissing his neck.

“Mmm,” he moaned. “Let’s see… I love how your curls never quite land in the same place every day, so I never quite know what to expect with your hair,” he said, running his fingers through my curls. “I love the freckles on your nose,” he added, running his thumb down the bridge of my nose. Each body part he mentioned, he gently grazed. “I love the way you look at me. Even if the room is crowded, you look so happy to be looking at me, and it makes me feel so special. I love that you are always touching me. I love how smart and thoughtful and hardworking you are. What else… I love how good you are with both of my sons, and how you have welcomed us into your life with open arms. I love watching your long fingers work their magic on a piano’s keys. I love the look you make when you are deep in thought on your keyboard, tuning out the rest of the world, trying to compose music. I love how easily you can switch among the three languages that you speak. I love your torso, and your hips, and your thighs, and especially your ass. And your cock, I think you know how much I love that,” he said, cupping me over my gym shorts. I was hard instantly. “But most importantly, I love YOU, Elio. You are my everything, and I can’t believe we get to spend our lives together.”

I arched into his body, I was putty in his hands as he kept softly rubbing me over my shorts. “I love you, Oliver. If I told you all of the things I loved about you, we’d never leave this room.”

“What else did I say I wanted to do in that email, hmm?”

“I believe you wanted to fuck me on the bed, in the shower, at the berm, on the desk, and you wanted me to bend you over a chair, and for me to defile you on the kitchen table…”

“How many times have you read that email?” he asked, laughing.

“You don’t want to know how many times I… well… you know,” I said. “Who needs porn when I’ve got dirty emails about how much you want to fuck me?”

Oliver chuckled and pulled me closer, our sweaty bodies pressed tightly together. “I thought about you, this past year, every time I did that. And if I’m being honest, many, many times over the past twenty years.”

If I had thought Oliver couldn’t get any sexier, I was wrong. The idea of him, masturbating to thoughts of me, did me in. “Fuck, Oliver, I want you so badly.”

He nibbled gently on my ear and said, “I think the kitchen table is off-limits right now, but if you wanted to defile me, the chair right here might do the trick…”

The chair certainly did the trick. Usually, we were gentle and tender with one another, but this morning, my carnal desires took over. We were very late for breakfast, as we had a hard time keeping our hands off of one another.

* * *

We left for Paris the next day, so that afternoon, I sat down with Ari to go over his AP English summer assignment. I sat next to him on his laptop in my father’s office. “Don’t be too rough on me,” he said, hiding his face. “But also, tell me if I need to change anything, I need to do well this year so I graduate as valedictorian.”

Ari set the document to track changes mode, so I started making a few minor changes, mostly grammatical. “I like your discussion here, about morality and the Lost Generation. I think you’ve got a really good grasp of the book. And here, where you talk about how Brett and Jake revert the tropes of how women and men are depicted in literature, how Brett is the one who wants the sex without love, and Jake is the romantic.”

“So you don’t think it’s terrible?” Ari asked, looking at the screen to see the edits I had made.

“No, I think this is great. You have a way with words, and I think you have a really good grasp of the book. There’s no way you aren’t getting an A on this, it’s definitely college-level work,” I said, smiling, as I continued to scroll through the paper. “I would maybe try to rework your ending a bit, to tie it more into your opening thesis statement, but otherwise, this is really, really good, Ari.”

Ari grinned and looked at the screen again. “Thank you, Elio, I appreciate your help.”

“I didn’t do all that much - you did the hard work yourself, but you’re welcome. I’m always here if you want my help with something for school. Or, with anything else,” I said, letting Ari know he could open up to me if he wanted to. That I was here for him.

“Uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “So… you’re moving in with us in the spring…”

I nodded. “Looks that way,” I said with a smile. “You don’t mind, do you? If you feel uncomfortable with it, I can find an apartment nearby. I don’t want to intrude on your life or change things.”

“I mean, things are different now, Elio. Everything changed when my mother died. You don’t know how bad it got, how depressed Dad was. He tried to hold it together for us, but he changed, he was never himself. Not until this summer, with you. You gave us back our dad.”

Though I thought I could hold it together, I failed miserably. I rubbed my eyes, trying to stop the tears from trickling down my cheeks and nose. Ari uncomfortably rubbed my back, trying to help. He gave me a hug, and I said, “Thanks, Ari. I didn’t mean to cry like that.”

“It’s okay, I get it. Dad loves you, and you make him happy. He’s always loved you. It makes me question the memories I have of my parents together, and my childhood in general, but you’ve found each other again.”

“How are you and your brother so wise?” I said, wiping the rest of the tears on my sleeve. “You shouldn’t question your memories, your father loved your mother very much.”

“But he was still in love with you their entire marriage,” Ari said, slouching into his chair.

“You can love two people at once. Life is complicated. Things were different back then - it was much easier to settle down with a woman, get married, have children. Society didn’t make it easy for same sex couples, and also, we were at different stages of our lives for a long time. I don’t know if it makes you feel any better, but your mother knew about me, about our summer, about how your father felt. She understood the decision he had made. I never met her, but my parents adored her, and your parents had a very happy life together.”

Ari sat in silence for a minute, and then nodded. “That should just be the motto of our family - Life is complicated.”

I laughed and smiled at him. “You’re not wrong there.”

We talked for another hour or so. He asked me questions about my past, about the position I was hoping would turn into a full-time gig at Harvard, about what we had planned for Paris. I asked about school, about his relationship with Jasmine (or what he would divulge), about his college plans, about his friends back home. This was the first time that Ari and I had really sat down and gotten to know each other, just the two of us, and it felt really wonderful that he was starting to open up.

“I have to admit, it’s going to be strange having you in our house, but I don’t think it’ll be bad,” Ari said, closing his laptop. He had planned to swim with Jasmine after we worked, and wanted to go head outside to meet her. “Especially if you smoke pot with me,” he added, with a sly smirk.

“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m pretty sure that’s a one-time thing, I don’t think I’m allowed to do that now that I’m with your father,” I said. “Though I’m willing to look the other way. I was your age, once.”

* * *

The next morning, we skipped our run because we needed to get to the airport early. Oliver made all of us take gym clothes, as we’d be in Paris for five nights and he was not willing to take off that long from exercising. Oliver had me wrapped around his finger, and I’d bend to his every whim, so this trip, I packed my sneakers and gym clothes.

My father drove us to the airport in Milan, as he didn’t want to bother Anchise that early in the morning, and I think he wanted to personally see us off. A few weeks ago, Oliver and I were able to book me on the same flights, and changed their seats so I would be sitting with him. He also booked an additional hotel room, so we’d have one and the boys would have another.

Oliver’s speech wasn’t for another two days, but he kept looking over his index cards on the plane before we took off. “Oliver, put those away, you’re going to be fine. You know this thing by heart at this point.”

“I know, I’m just a little nervous. This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever presented to,” he said, leaning down and putting the cards back in his bag,

“Everyone is going to fall in love with you, like I have,” I said. “I’m going to have to fight of hoards of philosophy professors and students.”

He kissed the tip of my nose and said, “Do you want me to start my presentation by saying that I’m taken, so hands off?”

“That would be nice, if not unprofessional,” I said, running my fingers along the nape of his neck. I leaned in to kiss him. I suddenly felt my chair jerk, and noticed that my seat had been kicked from the row behind me.

“Get a room,” Ari said, as he jokingly kicked the seat a second time.

“Isn’t that what we’re about to do, once we get to Paris?” Oliver said, turning around to embarrass his son.

“Ugh, gross, Dad,” Ari said, sticking out his tongue and sitting back down.

Turns out Oliver wasn’t just afraid of needles, but he was also afraid of turbulence. When the plane shook a bit, he gripped my hand, leaving indentations from his fingernails. I had a morbid thought during the bout of turbulence. It didn’t bother me, because we were together. If our plane was going down, at least we were together, and we wouldn’t have to live without each other. I decided I’d keep that thought to myself.

After the planed steadied out, Oliver placed his head on my shoulder and fell asleep, while our hands were still clasped. I wished Vic could take out his camera and take a picture of us sitting there, Oliver asleep on my shoulder. Ari and Vic chattered excitedly about all of the different baguettes and croissants and macarons they were going to eat in Paris. I was so incredibly happy, with Oliver, with his sons, about to go on a family vacation with the Morgenstern men. They were my family now, and I was forever grateful that they’d welcomed me, a man who had fallen in love with their father when I was a teenager, so willingly into their lives, and were letting me move in with them next year. I squeezed Oliver’s hand tightly, and fell asleep, thinking about the future vacations Oliver and I would take the boys on. We didn’t wake up until we had just about landed at Charles de Gaulle an hour later. 

“Bienvenue  à ‘Gay Paree’”, I said, kissing Oliver’s cheek, anticipating another playful seat kick from Ari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we've got about 3-4 more chapters left in this, unless I split chapters up. Thank you all for sticking with this through the end!


	68. Elio's Paris Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts off very NSFW, then becomes very fluffy.

_**POV: Oliver, August 8, 2007** _

We splurged on a taxi to take us to our hotel in the Marais, and I checked us into our rooms. The hotel didn’t have two adjoining or adjacent rooms, but we were able to get rooms in the same hallway. I instructed that the boys were not allowed to leave the hotel without telling us first. I needed to unpack and hang up my suits before they wrinkled, so I told the boys that we’d reconvene in the lobby in an hour and then go exploring before we sought out some lunch.

Once we locked our hotel room door, placed our luggage down, and hung up my suits, Elio charged at me, climbing my torso before knocking me on the bed. He kissed me roughly as he laid on top of me.

I rolled him over, pinning him to the bed, and kissed him equally as rough. “I wanted to make sure that we made good use of this room,” Elio said, nipping at my lower lip.

“We’re in Paris,” I said, kissing his neck. “Shouldn’t we go take advantage of the culture and the food and the art?”

“Later,” Elio said, tugging my shirt over my head. “We’ve got… fifty-seven minutes,” he said, looking at my Zayde’s watch on his wrist. “Can’t we at least spend forty-five of those in bed? Please?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” I said, climbing off of Elio so I could dig in my suitcase for the condoms and lube. I quickly placed those on the nightstand, and when I looked over at Elio, he’d already stripped off all of his clothing. “Wasting no time, I see,” I said, climbing back on the bed and straddling Elio.

Elio laughed as he began quickly unbuttoning my shorts. “I’m easy to please. I know what I want, and I go for it.”

“You haven’t changed much over the years,” I said, as I helped him tug off my shorts and my boxers. I began laying a trail of kisses down his neck and torso, slowly, teasingly making my way down his body. “Since we’re in Paris, you should only speak to me in French right now,” I added, as I was placing soft, lingering kisses on his thigh.

He moaned, and said, “Je veux passer ma vie avec toi.”

I gripped his shaft and very slowly licked the tip of his length, but then paused to ask. “What does that mean? I only know some of the words.”

When I stopped licking, he made a sad disappointed sound, and said, “Je pensais que tu m'avais dit de ne parler qu'en français?”

“Keep speaking in French, that is really, really sexy,” I said, and I took his entire length in my mouth.

Elio gasped, his eyes rolled back, and he said, “Continue de faire ça. C'est tellement bon.”

I kept at it for a few minutes, when I stopped momentarily to grab the lube from the table. I looked down at Elio, fully erect, his legs spread eagle, ready to submit to me and my every whim. He was the sexiest, most giving lover I had ever been with, and I needed to be inside of him, needed him to feel how I felt. I wanted everything to be as pleasurable as possible for him, to keep him happy for the rest of our lives. I slicked up my finger, slowly slid it inside of him, and let him adjust to the pressure. I kept slowly sucking on his hardness, enjoying the loud noises he was making. We were in a hotel room, far enough from the boys that they wouldn’t hear anything, and Elio was not holding back. Neither would I.

Elio opened the box of condoms and opened a wrapper for me, handing the condom over. “Baise moi s'il te plait,” he groaned, pleading with me.

“If you insist,” I said, removing my hand and rolling on the condom. He spread his knees further for me, and I slowly entered him.

“Oh mon Dieu!” he screamed, when I began to thrust a little harder, increasing my speed and pressure. He gripped my ass and dug his fingernails in, helping guide me at the speed he wanted. We settled at a rhythm that made us both scream out in ecstasy. He was shouting in French, I was swearing in English, we moaned each other’s names and our own. I tried to last as long as I could, but between the French he was spewing, and his hardness pressing against me, and how flushed his cheeks got in the midst of a good fuck, and how fantastic it felt to be inside of him, my orgasm was swift and intense.

After we disposed of the condom, Elio rolled me onto my back and climbed on top of me. I pulled him closer, encouraging him to straddle my face as I returned to sucking him. He found a comfortable position with his knees on either side of my head and his back arched, and began rocking his hips. “Merde,” he muttered, keeping his rhythm. I raised my head slightly for a better angle, and he gripped my hair, moaning loudly. Elio came in no time, and then collapsed on the bed next to me. “Je t’aime, Oliver,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“Je t’aime,” I said in return. This, I understood.

* * *

Somehow, we managed to clean up and get dressed in time to meet the boys in the hotel lobby.

“Where are we going first, Dad?” Vic asked. We exited the hotel and started walking down the narrow street.

“Why don’t we go get lunch at a cafe that Marzia recommended, and then we’ll take a walk?” Elio suggested.

“Excellent idea, I’m starving,” Ari said, rubbing his stomach. “I cannot wait to try all of this spectacular French food that your mother kept telling us about.”

The restaurant was about a ten minute walk from the hotel, which took extra time because Vic kept stopping to take pictures.

The cafe sat us outdoors, in some uncomfortable but quaint rattan chairs, and handed us the menus, which were only available in French. Ari and Vic looked over the menu for words they understood.

“Is poulet chicken?” Vic asked. “Pollo is chicken in Spanish, and it looks similar.”

Elio laughed. “You don’t pronounce the ‘t’ at all, but yes, that’s chicken.”

“Gross, they have escargot!” Ari said, making a gagging noise.

“It’s not so bad,” Elio said. “It actually tastes good, once you get over that it’s made from snails.”

“I would never be able to get over that,” Ari said, examining the menu more.

Ari ordered the chicken, Vic ordered a cheese sandwich, I got the duck confit, and Elio, in an effort to prove to Ari that escargot is not that bad, ordered escargot in herbed butter and a salad.

As we ate our lunch (Ari took a small bite of the escargot and hated it, but Vic didn’t mind it), Elio said, “I’ve got a couple of surprises for you all today.”

“Oh?” I said. I had no idea he had something planned.

“What is it? What is it?” Vic asked, excitedly.

“I can’t tell you now, it’ll spoil the surprise!” Elio said, with a smirk. “I promise you’ll all enjoy it.”

The boys scarfed down their lunch, and we headed off to enjoy our day in Paris before I had to check into the conference tomorrow.

Since the boys were always hungry, we decided to take a walk toward the Seine and sample every boulangerie and patisserie we passed by. As we collectively shared a delicious baguette, we walked toward Notre Dame Cathedral. We went inside, took a tour, Vic took some pictures, and we went on our way.

Elio led the way as we continued our walking tour of Paris. He gave us a mini history of interesting things that we passed, and jokingly made some things up when he had no idea what we were walking by. He looked down at the watch and said, “We’re making good time.”

“For what?” Ari asked.

“You’ll see.”

We reached the base of the Eiffel tower. “This is the first surprise. I know it’s the biggest tourist attraction in the city, but when your father invited me on the trip, I knew I wanted to take all three of you here. I immediately booked us tickets. Our elevator takes off in a half hour, so we should get in line now.”

The boys both excitedly ran toward the entrance, and we followed close behind. When we eventually got to the top, there was not a cloud in the sky, and the view was stunning. I wrapped my arm around Elio and kissed him gently. “Thanks for this,” I said. The boys were both walking around the tower, taking in the view of the different angles.

“This is awesome!” Vic said, taking pictures of the Paris cityscape. He turned around, and took a few pictures of us with Ari, of me with just Elio, and then asked a British tourist to take a picture. “Can you take a picture of my family?” he asked, settling between Ari and me. Elio stepped aside, and Vic said, “Why are you getting out of the picture? You’re part of our family, too.” Ari nodded at him, and motioned for him to come back toward us.

I squeezed Elio tightly, and we all smiled widely for the family picture. We both blinked a few tears out of our eyes.

After we left the Eiffel tower, we decided to sit in the park adjacent to the tower and sit and eat some of the pastries, cookies, and chocolates we'd already managed to accumulate on our walk. The boys left no shop untouched.

The boys sat on a bench, as Elio and I walked around the grass a bit, hand in hand. I was swept in the romance of it all: Paris, the location, his surprises, Elio in general. I placed my hands on his hips and pulled him close, looking down at him, staring deeply into his eyes. He grinned up at me and I smiled back. Elio got on his tip toes and kissed me softly.

"Perfect," I heard Vic say, clicking his camera, bringing me back to reality.

"Leave them alone," Ari said, with a mouth full of chocolate.

"What do you mean?" I asked Vic. He walked over and showed me the pictures he had taken during our private moment, with the Eiffel tower symmetrically situated behind us. He managed to capture the way we look at each other when we think no one is looking, and the picture of Elio and me kissing might as well have been a Parisian postcard.

"Can you send those to me?" Elio asked, smiling, as he scrolled through the pictures once more.

Elio squeezed my hand affectionately, and we headed on our way.

We spent the afternoon exploring, seeing different neighborhoods and sights. We saw the Arc de Triomphe, walked the Champs Élysées, stopped at a great English language bookstore where we all bought too many books, and eventually stopped at a crepe restaurant for dinner. It was a wonderful day with my three favorite people, my two sons and my Elio. My family.

* * *

 

After dinner, Elio said, "Time for the second surprise. Let's take another walk."

We walked for about fifteen minutes, when we hit the Louvre courtyard, with its beautiful glass pyramid. The yard was well lit, and Vic had us take pictures there, too.

"Isn't the museum closed by now?" I asked. Elio smirked.

"Not when your father is a world renowned classics professor who is friends with the curator of the Greek, Etruscan and Roman Antiquities Department..."

Elio checked his watch, and as if on schedule, an older woman with short, curly auburn hair came outside to meet us. "Elio, how lovely to see you. I have not seen you since you were in university, but you look the same," she said in a heavily accented English, kissing his cheek.

“Sylvie, it’s so great to see you! Thank you for staying late and meeting with us!”

“Oh, this is no trouble at all, you know I would do anything for your father. He has always been such a gracious host when I have passed through Italy,” she said.

“This is my… partner, Oliver,” he said, and I extended my hand. I wondered why he had paused, but we made eye contact and I realized he was just trying to find the right word to describe who I was to him. We had decided on partner, once, as it held so much more meaning than boyfriend, and we were much more than boyfriends, but had never actually used it in conversation. Partner felt meaningful, but also ambiguous, and I wasn’t sure if Elio was trying to skirt or force ambiguity.

“Lovely to meet you, Oliver,” Sylvie said, smiling as she shook my hand. “Professor Perlman had mentioned that you were his student once, many years ago. You and Elio make quite the handsome couple.” I felt myself blush and squeezed Elio’s shoulder once she released my hand. Ambiguity avoided.

“And these are Oliver’s sons, Ari, and Vic. Ari is actually working with my father this summer, and wants to study classics in college next year.” The boys both shook her hand. Ari looked especially excited about our private tour of the Louvre.

Sylvie took us inside, where we were checked by security guards and then allowed in. We were nearly the only ones in the museum, aside from cleaning staff and a few curators. “Ari, you’ve actually sort of been here before. I came here with your mother when she was pregnant with you,” I said. “Though we had to battle through crowds to see anything. Sylvie, this is incredible.”

We hit all of the highlights of the Louvre, especially those in Sylvie’s department, like Winged Victory of Samothrace, Diana of Versaille and the Venus de Milo. Elio pointed out the Code of Hammurabi, which Vic explained to us in detail as they’d covered it in his history class a couple of years ago. Ari and Vic were most excited for our private viewing of the Mona Lisa. We were even able to take pictures (with the flash off) with the painting, albeit, in front of the velvet rope. Even on our private tour, we couldn’t get too close.

As we walked the long halls of the museum, I wrapped my arm around Elio’s waist while Ari and Vic excitedly ran ahead. “Elio, this was amazing. We are never going to forget this private tour of the Louvre,” I said, pulling him in close for a quick kiss. “The boys are going to be talking about this for ages.”

“You should thank my father, he arranged it for us after I asked him to reach out to Sylvie.”

“But it was your idea?” I asked, squeezing his hip. He nodded and I grinned.

While we were on the short Metro ride back to our hotel (we were all exhausted and decided it was worth taking for the one stop rather than walking for twenty minutes), Ari asked, “So, what are we doing tomorrow if you have your conference, Dad?”

“I was thinking I could show you boys around, take you to some interesting places, unless you wanted to explore by yourselves?” Elio asked.

“No, that sounds fun. I’d rather have a tour guide,” Vic said, and Ari nodded in agreement. I watched happily as Elio planned out his day with my sons, while I’d be at the Sorbonne. This first day gave me a good feeling about the rest of our vacation together, as well for what the future held for the four of us as a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes. I apologize if the French is incorrect, I used Google translate. Elio says things like, "I want to spend my life with you," and "I thought you told me to speak only French," as well as some dirty things that can me implied from context (unless the French is totally incorrect... once again, apologies).
> 
> Also, I realized after the fact when I looked at a calendar that this takes place on a Wednesday, and apparently the Louvre is open late on Wednesdays, so... suspension of disbelief here. Also, I've been to the Louvre, but I don't remember what rooms/galleries things are in, and didn't quite feel like looking that up, so just assume they took the most logical route between exhibits and that the order I listed the things they visited isn't necessarily the order they visited in. Or, this is fiction and the Morgensterns were given the kind of tour only Beyonce and Jay-Z get.
> 
> I probably won't be able to post another chapter until after Thanksgiving, so for all Americans, enjoy the holiday (or, I'm very, very sorry if you have to work, especially if you work retail on Thursday night or Friday. I appreciate all that you do.) For everyone else, I hope you're having a nice week!
> 
> Thank you for the continued comments. You are, collectively and individually, the best.


	69. Don't Ever Say We Don't Love You

 

_**POV: Elio, August 9-10, 2007** _

“Elio, wake up,” Oliver said, rubbing my back. I had rolled over toward him in the middle of the night, my naked torso pressed against his stomach, and my leg between his legs. He was warm and cozy, and I didn’t want to wake up or let go.

“Good night, Oliver. I love you,” I said, kissing his chest, where my head was already pressed against, and closed my eyes again. I gripped him tightly, wanting to hold him while I slept.

“We go through this almost every morning, it’s time to go for a jog,” he said.

“Ugh, no, I’m exhausted from yesterday. Stay here and sleep with me. In whichever way you interpret that sentence,” I added, chuckling, as I kept my eyes closed on his chest.

Oliver gently pushed me off of him and slid out of my arms. “Elio, as much as you know I would love to do either of those things, I really wanted to get in a run before I head to the conference today.” I opened my eyes and saw him standing next to the bed naked, raising his arms over his head to stretch.

“You’re just doing that to tempt me,” I said, sitting up and yawning. “Fine, if we run, which is your activity of choice, then after, we do my activity of choice, which involves that enormous cock of yours…” I said lasciviously. If he was waking me up early to run, he was going to spend the whole time horny. It only seemed fair.

“Fuck, you don’t play fair,” he said, visibly harder, but trying to will his erection away. “I am going to hold you to your word when we get back,” Oliver said. 

“I expect you to hold me accountable,” I said, smirking, getting out of bed to dig for the gym clothes that I packed.

“But for now, I should call my sons’ room and make sure they’re awake, and go for a jog. I figured we could run along the Seine.”

Our jog was actually lovely, and Ari and Vic willingly joined - the sun had just risen so it wasn’t too warm yet, and the view along the river was gorgeous. I was always at least a few paces behind Oliver, so the view of his behind in his running shorts wasn’t half bad, either.

Back in the hotel room, after we took off our shoes and socks, I said, “We went for a run, I believe it is my turn now.”

“And what do you have planned?” Oliver asked, playing with the curls on the back of my head.

I kissed him softly, and then slowly pulled his shirt over his head. “Hmm, there is so much that I want to do to you right now, it’s difficult to pick just one.”

Oliver pulled my shirt off, and said, “Well, if you’re indecisive, I know what I would prefer right now…”

“Plowing into me like there’s no tomorrow?” I asked, half jokingly. I slid off my gym shorts and boxers, and Oliver did the same. We kissed more aggressively this time, the kiss mirroring the lust in our eyes and voices.

“Well… yes, but I was going to say that I really want to suck you off while you suck me.”

I led him onto the bed. This was a fantastic idea. We laid on our sides, opposite each other, and at nearly the same time, took each other in. We didn’t do this often, but this was amazing. Oliver came first, so he pushed me onto my back, crawled between my legs, and focused all of his attentions on pleasing and pleasuring me. “I’m close,” I moaned a minute or two later. As I began tensing up, he released me from his mouth, guiding me to spurt on his shoulders and chest. The way he had begun exerting dominance, and then let me come all over him was so sexy - I wordlessly panted, attempting to regain my composure.

* * *

 

“I should probably shower and head over to the Sorbonne, my conference starts in the late morning,” Oliver said, looking smug.

I followed him into the bathroom, wet a washcloth, and cleaned off his chest. “I should probably shower with you. I’m taking Ari and Vic to the Catacombs, and we need to get in the queue before it opens.”

“Ari will love that. Vic might be a little spooked by the enclosed space and the darkness, so just make sure he never loses sight of you,” Oliver said, turning on the shower. We both stepped inside.

After we showered, Oliver put on one of his suits (though not his best one, he was saving that for tomorrow), and after he slicked his hair, I helped straighten his tie. “You look so handsome,” I said, smiling at him.

“So do you,” he said, brushing his hair one more time in the mirror.

“Heads will be turning with my wrinkly polo shirt and khaki shorts,” I said, laughing. 

While Oliver packed his laptop and belongings in a briefcase to take to the conference, I leafed through the newspaper that the hotel left under our door. I saw that there was a Paris Saint-Germain home game that evening, and I thought that Ari in particular would enjoy it.

“What time do you get out of the conference today?” I asked, tying my shoes.

“Probably around 5PM. Should we meet back here before heading to dinner?”

I nodded. “That sounds good. I had an idea for tonight, though, if I can make it work. There’s a PSG game, and the paper says it’s sold out, but I’m going to call Thierry and see if he can get tickets for us. He’s a big fan and goes to games often, so he might know someone who can find us tickets.”

“I think Ari, and even Vic, will really enjoy that,” Oliver said. I called Marzia’s family’s villa from the hotel phone, and briefly spoke with Thierry. He said he’d let me know what he could do, he had a few friends he could ask. 

Oliver grabbed his things and headed out. We met the boys in the lobby, I kissed Oliver goodbye, and we headed on our separate ways.

* * *

Though the line for the catacombs was long, we actually did not have to wait too long, as we were in the first batch of people allowed in for the day. Oliver was spot on about both of his boys - Ari was intrigued by all of the skeletons and the creepy history, while Vic was interested for a bit, and then looked mildly terrified. In one particularly dark tunnel, Ari crept up behind Vic and scared him. Vic lept up nearly a foot, and then gripped my arm for the rest of the tunnel.

“Vic, are you okay?” I asked him, once we ascended the staircase back to the street level.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, still visibly shaken.

“I’m sorry I took you here, I didn’t know how it would affect you,” I said, rubbing his back.

“Vic’s just being a baby, the catacombs were awesome! So many skulls and bones! I had no idea there was something like this here!” Ari said.

“No, I’m okay now,” Vic said, shaking it off. “It’s just… there were a LOT of skulls, from a lot of dead people. And no one knows who most of these people were, so they just lived their lives so their remains could be part of an art display. And it was really dark and a really narrow space and we were underground...”

“The catacombs were more of a burial ground than an art display, but they were forgotten about for many years until they were rediscovered,” I said. “Actually, the French resistance used the tunnels during World War II after the Nazis occupied France.” This seemed to interest Vic some more.

“Why don’t we go stop for some pre-lunch ice cream? Then we can do some more exploring?” I suggested, trying to get both of Oliver’s sons back on my side. They both grinned and we found ourselves some ice cream.

* * *

 

I tried to appeal to things that both Ari and Vic would enjoy, or at least, appreciate. We ate our ice cream in the Jardin du Luxembourg, so I could show Ari one of the locations Hemingway mentions in _A Moveable Feast_. We walked around Montparnasse, and I pointed out places I knew famous writers had lived or worked, in hopes it would help Ari in his AP English class.

After lunch, we went to the Centre Pompidou. I showed Vic the Stravinsky Fountain, which was inspired by the Rites of Spring and other Stravinsky works. Before we stopped into the National Museum of Modern Art, we popped into IRCAM, a music research center where I’d done some composing in the past. Ari looked bored, but Vic was thrilled - it was hard entertaining two very different teenagers at the same time. Somehow, Oliver and Deb had instilled an appreciation for art in both boys, so they both seemed to enjoy the art museum.

“I really liked the Matisse paintings,” Vic said, while we rode the Metro back to the hotel. “They’re all kind of sad, and calming, at the same time.”

“That huge Picasso was really cool, too,” Ari said.

“Today was really cool, thank you Elio,” added Vic.

When we walked into the hotel, I went to the front desk to check if Thierry had left a message. “No message, but this envelope was left for you,” the attendant said in French.

I opened the envelope, and inside were four tickets to tonight’s soccer game. A note inside said,

 

_**Elio,** _

_**Don’t ever say we don’t love you.** _

_**Noemie sends kisses to her Oncle Elly, and she requests that you give Ari in particular a big hug for her.** _

_**Enjoy the game!** _

_**Love,** _

_**Thierry and Marzia** _

 

“Well, it looks like we’ve got plans tonight,” I said to the boys.

“Aren’t we getting dinner when Dad gets back?” Vic asked.

“We might need to save the nice dinner for tomorrow night and grab something quick tonight. Thierry was able to get us four tickets to tonight’s Paris Saint-Germain game.”

“Oh, shit, that’s awesome!” Ari shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly. “The guys on my team will be so jealous!”

“That’s a… soccer team?” Vic asked.

“Only one of the best teams in the world,” Ari said. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Why don’t you two go back to your room and nap or rest until your Dad gets back, and then we’ll figure out dinner after that?”

I went back to my room to rest, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, as we’d had an exhausting day. Maybe an hour later, I was woken up to Oliver squeezing my shoulder and kissing my forehead. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, looking down and smiling at me.

“How was the conference?” I asked, stretching my arms overhead and sitting up.

“It was great! I learned a lot and made some great contacts already. How was your day with Ari and Vic? Did they try to murder each other yet?”

“No, actually, we had a really great day. You were right about Vic and the catacombs, but I think I made up for the misstep by taking him to a music research center. I’ll let the boys tell you more.”

Oliver sat on the bed next to me, and I carded my fingers through his hair as I pressed my lips to his, kissing him gently. “We missed you all day. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. I don’t like being away from you for that many hours,” Oliver said, sighing.

I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing him in. “Oh! Before I forget, Thierry was able to get us the tickets to the game tonight! We only really have an hour to grab dinner before we need to get there, so we should maybe round up your sons and go find something quick to eat?”

“Sure, do you want to round them up while I change?” Oliver said.

“Probably a good idea. Though, I could offer my clothing removal services, but then I think we wouldn’t leave the room tonight.”

Oliver laughed. “Just go, I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few. I’ll take you up on your offer when we get back here tonight.” I gave him a quick kiss and went down the hall to knock on the boys’ door.

Once Oliver met us, we decided to go grab falafel for dinner, since some of the best falafel in the city was only a few blocks from our hotel in the Jewish Quarter. We ate our falafel in happy, delicious silence while we walked to the Metro.

Ari, and even Vic, had a blast at the soccer game. The crowd was lively and cheered the whole game. Oliver let them buy team jerseys at the stadium, at stadium prices, as souvenirs. “At the very least Ari will get some use out of his, not so sure about Vic, but I couldn’t let one buy it without also letting the other,” Oliver mused, while the boys picked out which jersey they wanted.

“The perils of parenthood?” I asked, and Oliver nodded.

Everyone was buzzing when we rode the Metro back to the hotel. “Hey, Dad, can we try to go to an AC Milan or Inter Milan game before we go home? This was so much fun tonight!”

“I don’t think we have enough time, but we’ll definitely try next summer,” Oliver said, running his thumb along my palm. I loved when he made arrangements that involved me, in the future.

“If you think this was fun, imagine being in Italy during the World Cup last year! My parents and I were conflicted during the finals, we didn’t know whether to root for France or Italy. Thierry actually had a drink poured over his head when he was wearing a French national team jersey to the watch party they had in town.”

Vic laughed, and Ari said, “I wish we had been here for that last summer, none of my friends, even ones from the soccer team, cared about the World Cup, so I watched most of the games by myself.”

Back at the hotel, Oliver made sure the boys went back to their hotel room, and then went back to our room with me. We were both exhausted from our respective long days, but we still wanted, nay, needed each other, so our lovemaking was slow and gentle and incredibly tender.

* * *

The next morning, Oliver went for a long run by himself to clear his head before his presentation. I gave him an excellent blow job (if I do say so myself, he seemed to enjoy it) to help calm his nerves, and then helped him get dressed. “You’ve never looked better,” I said, as we fixed his tie.

“But do I look like I know what I’m talking about?” he asked, nervously.

“Of course. You are going to knock everyone’s socks off, Oliver.”

“Thank you, Elio,” he said, kissing me softly.

“I love you, Oliver. Now, knock ‘em dead.”

After Ari, Vic and I ate a leisurely breakfast, I took them to the Musée de l'Orangerie to see Monet’s Water Lilies. While I was there, I looked at my watch and realized that Oliver’s presentation was in two hours. I wondered how he was holding up. “Do you guys want to go sneak into your father’s conference and try to see his presentation?” I asked. They both nodded excitedly. “We should maybe go change into nicer clothing to blend in, and then we’ll head to the University.”

We left the museum and took the Metro back to the hotel, so we could quickly change. I didn’t bring a suit with me, and Oliver’s would be too big on me, so I put on slacks and a button down shirt. Both Ari and Vic had the same idea, and we laughed at our matching outfits when we reconvened. We walked to the school, as we were only a twenty minute walk away.

At the Sorbonne, I looked around for signs for Oliver’s conference and couldn’t find any, so I asked a security guard where I could find the conference. He led me in the right direction, and I managed to talk my way into a schedule, which listed the room each presentation and event was in. We found Oliver’s, saw we had a few minutes to spare. We snuck into the auditorium, and found a few empty seats in the back row. People kept piling into the room, and before we knew it, people had to stand in the back and sit in the aisles because it was so crowded.

Oliver walked into the room from a door at the front and thankfully didn’t see us sitting there. “Oh, he’s handsome,” a woman with short blonde hair in front of me remarked to the younger brunette next to her.

“And it looks like he’s not wearing a ring! Those are hard to find at these conferences!” the second woman said.

I resisted the urge to tell them that he was indeed very much taken, but I let them enjoy their fantasy for a while longer.

Though I may be biased, Oliver’s presentation went incredibly well. The audience was rapt and engaged, and he received many thought-provoking questions that he answered with grace and intelligence. I was so, incredibly proud of him. After his presentation, a long line formed near the podium to talk to him and ask questions. The two ladies who were sitting in front of me quickly went to go greet Oliver. I joined the line, trying to remain unnoticed, but before we could hold him back, Vic ran toward the podium and shouted, “Dad! You were so good!”

“Vic! What are you doing here?” Oliver asked, excitedly. Vic jumped up and gave Oliver a hug.

Ari and I went down to Oliver so he could see that we were there, too. “We wanted to surprise you and come see your lecture! I can’t believe how many people were here!” Vic said.

“Excuse me for just a second, I didn’t know my sons were coming,” Oliver said to the next person in line. He stepped aside, and gave Ari a hug. “What a wonderful surprise!”

I smiled softly at him. I wasn’t sure how he wanted to handle being seen with me in a professional and academic environment like this, but he came over to me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and gave me a long, if chaste, kiss.  “Thank you so much for coming here, it means so much to me,” he said, giving me another kiss, squeezing me tightly. I heard the two women sigh sadly.

“Go meet your adoring fans, we’ll wait for you,” I said, corralling his sons.

We went to sit in the back of the room, when a man about ten years older than Oliver came over to us. “Nice to see you, Ari, Vic.” He turned to face me. “So you must be the Elio that Oliver has not shut up about since we got here,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m John Weber, I work with Oliver at Tufts.”

“I’m Elio,” I said, “But you already knew that.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I need to run to another session, but I just wanted to say that I think you put a spring back in Oliver’s step. I haven’t seen him this happy in a few years. Anyway, I look forward to actually getting to know you back at home. Ari, Vic, enjoy the rest of your summer!” He headed out of the room, and I leaned into my chair and smiled. It seemed like everyone noticed how Oliver was back to his jolly, warm self again.

We were soon ushered out of the auditorium by the next session that would be using the room, so we waited for Oliver in the hallway. He came over to us and said, “I can’t believe you all came! Were you here for the whole thing?”

“Every single word about philosophers I’ve never heard of,” Ari said, jokingly. “Seriously, though, you managed to make philosophy interesting. You should have heard the two women in front of us going on and on about how hot you were.”

Oliver’s ears turned red, and he smiled at me. “Do you three want to join me for lunch before I go to my late afternoon sessions?”

After our lunch with Oliver, we decided to take it easy for the rest of the afternoon, so we went back to the English language bookstore (which happened to be close to the university), each picked out a new book, and sat along the Seine reading, until it was time to go back to the hotel to meet Oliver for dinner.

I was enjoying my time alone with Vic and Ari. This was proving to me that I could be a good stepfather one day, and that while I thought I wanted to have a child that I raised from infancy, my life would not feel incomplete as long as these two were in my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dirty mind realized this was going to be Chapter 69, so... yeah.
> 
> A few things. PSG didn't actually have a game this day, and it likely wouldn't have been at night, but... I thought it would be a good bonding experience if Elio took Ari to a soccer game.
> 
> No idea if IRCAM is the kind of thing tourists can visit, but when I was reading about the Pompidou Centre, it was listed as an attraction, and it sounded like the kind of thing that Elio would have access to as a music professor/composer.
> 
> I realize this trip is very exhausting, and I apologize. If it's any consolation, this is how I do vacations - I try to pack in as much as possible because there's just so much that I want to do and see.
> 
> If I've gotten any of the timing/geography things wrong, I apologize - let me know and I'll fix it. It's based on my limited knowledge of Paris/what I've been able to map out on Google maps.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and support.
> 
> Now, if you all need me, I'll be sitting in the corner weeping about how tomorrow (the 24th) is my one year CMBYN anniversary.


	70. Best Summer of My Life

_**POV: Ari, August 11-14, 2007** _

We had such a good time in Paris. The only thing that would have made it better would be if Jasmine had been able to come with us, but Dad wouldn’t let Vic have his own hotel room, and the whole hotel thing would have been awkward - either he’d have to share a room with Dad and Elio (gross), or share with Jasmine and me, and neither of those was ideal. Also, Jasmine couldn’t afford the last minute flight to Paris, and in the end, it wound up being a nice family vacation. I did raise the issue with Dad before we went that his boyfriend was allowed to go on our family trip, but my girlfriend was not, but he gave me a not terribly convincing argument that it was not the same thing, and also, he was the one paying for everything so I would lose any subsequent argument about the trip. I just kept my mouth shut after that.

It was pretty obvious that Elio was making an extended effort to be nice to Vic and me, and to take us to things that we would each particularly enjoy, but I didn’t mind having my affection bought. I mean, he took me to a PSG game! I did like having him there to translate everything and tell us where to go, as it made getting around much easier. Also, Dad was definitely happy that we were spending time alone with Elio. I think he was worried about how things were going to go once we got back home, but the two of them are disgustingly in love, so I don’t think they have anything to worry about. Vic and I won’t stand in their way, and Elio is not going to try to disrupt our lives too much.

At the conference, I was a little surprised that when Dad saw that Elio was there, he kissed him in front of his colleagues. I KNOW there’s nothing wrong with them kissing in public, and they are smitten with each other, but I was a bit worried that it would jeopardize his career in some way, or someone would say something negative. I thought I heard a disapproving grunt, but someone in line was just sneezing. I just hoped that when we got back to the States, that people would be as accepting as everyone we’ve encountered has been. It was going to be an uphill battle for them, but Vic and I were behind them, and their love seemed like it could overcome, or overpower, any negativity. The kids in our schools would probably not be as accepting, but we’d deal with that as it happened.

The rest of the trip was great. We went to Versailles over the weekend, and then we went to an opera on Saturday night - we saw Bizet’s _Carmen_ , and I was surprised that I recognized some of the songs. Vic was incredibly excited to see something at the Palais Garnier, which Elio explained was the opera house from  _Phantom of the Opera_. We also explored more neighborhoods, went to more museums, went shopping, had some more amazing meals, and ate more baguettes and croissants and macarons and mille-feuille and kouign amanns than we knew what to do with. I was going to have to ask Annella to teach us (or maybe teach Dad) how to make some French pastries before we left.

The last day of the trip, I asked Dad if he could take me to a jewelry boutique so I could buy a souvenir for Jasmine. I picked out a necklace on a silver-colored chain with a heart pendant. A bit cliche, but what do I know about picking out jewelry? Dad said it was nice, and he thought Jasmine would like it.

I was half expecting Pro to pick us up at the airport this afternoon, but he sent Anchise. I couldn’t wait to get back to the villa to see Jasmine. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in five days, though it felt like much longer. Jasmine was sitting in the living room, watching a movie on a DVD with Annella. “Hi Jasmine!” I said, running into the room. “Hi Annella.”

“Hello, Ari. Jasmine, we’ll finish the movie later,” Annella said, pausing the film, shutting the television, and leaving the room.

“Hi,” she said, wrapping her arms around my waist and looking up at me. I bent down to kiss her, a soft kiss that very quickly devolved into making out.

We quickly made our way back to her room, where we hastily pulled off our clothes and got under the sheets for some very excellent “we haven’t seen each other in nearly a week” sex. If this was what sex was like after being separated for five days, I couldn’t imagine how intense it would be in the fall when we’d go weeks without seeing each other. Long distance was going to be tough.

While we were cuddling post-sex, Jasmine asked, “So, how was Paris? I’ve always wanted to go, it looks beautiful.”

“It was awesome, we saw a lot of really cool things, and Elio was a good tour guide. He took us to a soccer game, an opera, and he got Professor Perlman to arrange a _private tour_  of the Louvre after hours. That’s how influential Pro is - he was able to get us into the Louvre when no one else was there, so we got to see the Mona Lisa by ourselves, without a crowd.” I told her more details about the trip, and the things we saw, and ate.

“That is all so cool! I’m glad you had a good time. Was it awkward spending the mornings and afternoons with just Elio and not your Dad?”

“Actually, it wasn’t awkward at all. He was trying too hard sometimes, but I think he just wanted us to like him. I couldn’t tell if he was going for friend or stepparent, but we had a good time with him. He snuck us into the Sorbonne so we could watch Dad’s presentation, too.”

* * *

The next day, after working in the morning with Pro, helping scan some of the last of his files, Jasmine and I went into town with Vic, and met up with Rocco, Pia and Elena. We got pizza and gelato, and then went to the bar where Jasmine and I had our first date so we could play some darts and pool.

The window of the bar advertised a carnival that would be held in the town square this upcoming Saturday - we’d been away for a few days so we hadn’t seen the signs go up. Rocco translated for us, and there would be music, dancing, food, rides, and more.

“That sounds like fun, we should go!” Jasmine said.

“They do something like this every few years - it’s kind of lame, but everyone goes, from kids to grandparents, so I guess we’ll have fun,” Rocco said. “If not, I’m sure Gio will have some of that good shit he always carries.”

“I will not be partaking in that, not after last time,” Vic said, laughing. “We should tell Dad and everyone at the villa about the carnival, though! This will be great because we leave a few days later!”

Leaving. I didn’t want to think about leaving. I didn’t want to return to my regular life, in Massachusetts. I wouldn’t be in Europe, with Jasmine.

We spent the afternoon playing pool, throwing some darts, and then we all went back to the villa to swim and play volleyball. It was a good afternoon, but Vic’s reminder that we’d be going home in a week made it all feel bittersweet.

* * *

I went up to the attic to take a nap before dinner, but before I could fall asleep, Dad followed me upstairs.

“Are you okay, Ari? You looked sort of melancholy when you were in the pool with the other kids earlier,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a little sad that we’re going home soon. I really love it here, this was the best summer of my life, and I don’t want it to end.”

Dad sat at the foot of my bed and nodded. “I know what you mean. I don’t want the magic of this summer to end, either.”

“What am I going to do about seeing Jasmine during the year? She has a work study job that pays her peanuts, and lifeguarding occasionally doesn’t really pay anything, so we can’t afford to see each other that often.”

“We’ll figure something out. As long as you’re keeping up with your classes and you are doing your homework, maybe one weekend a month, I can go down to visit Elio instead of him coming up to us, and I can drop you off in Manhattan along the way,” Dad said, understandingly. “We’ll have to work out the logistics of it, but I think we can come to an arrangement.”

“Really, Dad? That would be great! Once a month was way more than we were expecting to be able to see each other!”

“I’m not promising anything, but I understand what you’re going through. School comes first, but we will see. I know how much you like Jasmine, and long distance is going to be trying enough, even with the means to see each other often.”

“At least you know that Elio is going to move in with us in the spring. I don’t even know where I’m going to college, so I don’t know if we’re going to be in the same place. What if I don’t get into Columbia?”

Dad sighed. “Ari, are you applying early decision to Columbia because Jasmine is in New York, or are you applying because that’s where you want to go?”

“Ugh, Dad, you know it was my top choice _before_ we even got here this summer. You and mom loved it there, it’s where you met, they have everything I’m looking for in a college, it’s in New York City, and Jasmine being at Barnard is just the icing on the cake,” I said, throwing my pillow at him.

“I just wanted to make sure, Ari. You can’t choose where to go to college based on where your girlfriend goes, even if that choice is an excellent university. You need to make decisions that are best for your academic career and your future.”

I didn’t want to start a fight with my father, but this definitely sounded like some of the same reasons he had left Elio the first time he was here, and that caused them two decades of torment and heartbreak. He didn’t want Elio to make life decisions based on him. He believed that Elio needed to prioritize his education and becoming his own person. “Dad, I’m not stupid. If we’re in different places, then we’ll try to make it work. I like Jasmine… I think I love her, actually, but you and Mom always told me that I have to do what’s best for me and that school is always more important than anything else, and I get that. I really do. Mom would have wanted me to go to the best college for me. It’s just coincidence that Jasmine’s school basically shares a campus with the school I want to go to.”

Dad smiled at me. “Good. I just had to make sure you were making the decisions for the right reasons. Have you finished your application?”

“Just about. I just need to put the finishing touches on my personal statement. I’ll be done in a couple of days.”

“I can’t wait to read it,” Dad said.

* * *

Mafalda made us an excellent welcome home dinner, replete with all of our favorites. She made the Tortelli Cremaschi that Vic and I love, some great fish that Anchise caught that afternoon, and dark chocolate gelato. I think she was trying to show us that even though we had amazing culinary experiences in Paris, that nothing is better than her Italian cooking.

“Dad, you’re not a bad cook, but it’s going to be hard going back to your cooking after eating Mafalda’s food all summer. No offense,” I said, savoring my gelato.

Elio smiled at Dad and laughed, and Dad said, “None taken. No one is a better cook than Mafalda.”

“I’ve never actually had your cooking before,” Elio said. “I cooked breakfast for you all when you stayed with me in February.”

“Dad is a good cook!” Vic said. “He always did most of the cooking, Mom usually burnt everything because she was doing five things at once and would forget to take things off of the stove or out of the oven.”

Dad nudged Elio’s shoulder with his own and said, “I’ve never had any complaints.” Jasmine giggled at the double entendre, I did my best to keep my food down and not gag.

We devoured the rest of our gelato, and stayed at the table a while longer, drinking another glass of wine.

“So we saw this sign in town today, about a big carnival that’s happening on Saturday, we were thinking it would be fun for everyone to go!” Jasmine said.

“They have one of those every few years, most people in town wind up stopping by,” Annella said. “Sammy and I can be persuaded to go.”

Vic reached across the table and grabbed Dad’s gelato bowl, which Dad had only taken a few bites of, focusing instead on his wine. “Dad, are you and Elio going to go? Rocco said there’s usually food, dessert, drinking, dancing, rides, and more!” Vic said excitedly.

Dad and Elio looked at each other and shrugged. “Sure. Why not. Sounds like a nice way to cap off our summer.”

Elio nodded. “I really like the arancini stand that’s usually at these things. It’s worth going for that, if nothing else.”

“Not the dancing?” Dad asked. “You kids should see Elio dance. When he was younger, he had some real moves.”

“We saw him dance at my Bar Mitzvah!” Vic said.

I laughed and nearly spit out my wine. “Like you remember the second half of your Bar Mitzvah!”

“I remember it, I was just dizzy for part of it,” he said, blushing.

We went to the living room for a nightcap, where Pro served the adults cocktails. Dad gave me a dirty look when I tried to ask for one - I had already had several glasses of wine, so I wasn’t going to push it. 

“Tesoro, why don’t you play something for us tonight and give Vic a break?” Annella said, warmly placing her hand on Elio’s back. He nodded, and went to play the piano. After he played, he went over to the couch and sat on Dad’s lap, where Dad wrapped his arms around Elio’s waist and placed his head on Elio’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. He was never this affectionate with Mom, and while I was getting used to it, sometimes I was still surprised.

* * *

As we laid in bed, Jasmine had her chin on my shoulder, and she was idly running her fingers through my chest hair. She was wearing the necklace that I bought for her in Paris, and she swore that she loved it.

“I talked to my dad about visiting you during the year. He said that we’d have to work something out, but maybe he can go visit Elio in New Jersey once a month in the fall, and that he can drop me off in the city to visit you,” I said, running my fingers up and down her arm.

“Oh! That’s great! I still need to figure out my finances and my school schedule to see if I can come up to you at some point. I can probably only afford to come up once a semester, and it depends on when my papers are due and when I have exams.”

I frowned, but nodded understandingly. “We’ll only have to be long distance for a year, though. Hopefully I’ll be at Columbia next fall, and then we’ll be in the same place again. We’ll figure something out if I don’t get in.”

“You’ll get in. You’re smart, you have great grades and extra-curriculars, and your personal statement will knock their socks off. Plus, you’re a legacy. Either way, I know we can make it work.”

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've officially changed the number of chapters from pending to 72! Ahh!
> 
> Sorry for the delay - life gets in the way, as always. Also, I didn't love this chapter and kept re-writing, but I just needed to tie up some loose ends. Most of it still feels forced :/
> 
> I've got most of the next chapter and the entire last chapter written, so those should be up much sooner.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and your continued support!


	71. Bashert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, but I hope you'll enjoy it!

_**POV: Oliver, August 15-19, 2007** _

Our summer in Italy was quickly drawing to a close, and an air of melancholy had swept over the villa. Elio and I were trying to spend every moment possible together, and it seemed Ari and Jasmine were doing the same. Vic was spending more time with Annella in the garden, and with Mafalda in the kitchen, learning how to make some of her Italian specialties.

During dinner one night, Sammy had offered to help connect Jasmine to the university in Milan if she wanted to come back next summer and do research there - I would have assumed this was as a favor to Ari, so the two of them could be together during the summer, but Jasmine was probably the best summer student he’d ever had. She certainly worked harder than I ever did in the post.

Over our cannoli dessert, we learned that Jasmine had never seen _The_ _Godfather_ movies (Ari and I had both made “leave the gun, take the cannoli” jokes), so the next day, when it was raining and none of us wanted to go outside, we all watched the first two. Elio had to dig out the family's old VCR and we watched the movies on VHS with Italian subtitles. We each took our spots on the various chairs and couches and settled in the living room for the movies. Mafalda made us popcorn and then joined us for the long double feature.

Elio sat sidled next to me, with his head on my arm, through most of the movies. I alternated between gently playing with his hair and running my fingers up and down his arm. Everything about the afternoon was so warm and lovely. We were a big happy family, enjoying an afternoon of watching movies together. After the pain, and loneliness, and sadness, and depression of the past two years, I just couldn't believe that this was my life now. A lazy afternoon in the Perlmans' villa, with my sons, Elio, and his parents, was my reality, and we could have many more afternoons like this in future summers.

It was hard to allow myself to be happy sometimes, but I thought about how my therapist once told me that Deb's death wasn't my fault, and I was allowed to smile again, to love again, to be happy again. And I was just that. Happy.

As we changed positions on the couch, I wrapped my arm tightly around Elio and kissed the crown of his head. I felt so lucky to have him. Elio was always affectionate and loving, and wore his heart on his sleeve, and I had been trying to do the same for him. I was just so appreciative of how patient he had been with me this past year, that even when I was a complete jerk to him, he gave me time to grieve and to come to him. He loved me unconditionally, gave me everything he had, and I owed it to him to be the same way. We were partners in love, partners in life, and I never wanted to be without him. I couldn't wait until we were living together, and I couldn't wait to see what our future held.

I also appreciated how my kids were so accepting of our relationship, and encouraged it from the start, pushing me toward Elio. Then there were the Perlmans, with their never ending generosity and openness. I was surrounded by such love and so many wonderful people, and it would be hard to replicate the magic of this summer in the future, but I knew this was what it was always going to be like for our family.

After _The Godfather Part II_ , the kids went to take a nap before dinner, and Mafalda went to the kitchen to cook for us. Elio and I stayed in the living room with Sammy and Annella, talking about the next year.

“Darling, you’ll have to let us know when to visit in the spring and where in Boston we should stay,” Annella said, as she sat with Sammy’s arm around her shoulder.

“Where to stay? You’ll be staying with us, of course,” I said. “We’ve got a pullout couch in the basement, Elio and I can sleep down there and you can take the bedroom when you visit.”

“That’s very sweet of you to offer,” she said, with a smile.

“I still haven’t seen the house I’ve agreed to move into,” Elio said, laughing. “What if it’s a glorified yurt?”

“Elio, do you really think I could fit in a yurt?” I said with a chuckle.

“You have to duck just to walk through the doorways in this house,” Sammy said. “I’ve been to his house before, Elio. He’s even got a nice piano. You’ll be happy there. Though, I imagine you’d be happy anywhere, even in a yurt, as long as Oliver was there with you.”

Elio and I both nodded, and squeezed each other’s hand. “I’d go anywhere for you,” Elio said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Oliver, you are going to take good care of our Elio, no? And Elio, you will take good care of Oliver and his boys?” Annella asked.

“I think he can take care of himself, but I’ll always be here for him, no matter what. I love your son, I always have, and I promise that I will always be by his side.”

Sammy leaned forward and adjusted his glasses. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ve always just wanted what’s best for Elio. We want him to be happy, and it’s been pretty clear for a long time that you are what makes him happiest. I am thrilled that you are back in one another’s lives, and that your love is so powerful. It needs to be strong, because the road ahead will not be an easy one.

“Society is more accepting now than ever before, but there will always be those who do not agree with your relationship. You need to look beyond the negativity, find strength in each other. You were meant to find each other again. Oliver, I’ve always believed that you were Elio’s Bashert, and we couldn’t be happier to welcome you back into our lives, with open arms. Ti vogliamo bene.”

I used my forefinger to wipe a few years away from my eyes, and smiled. Elio tilted his head toward me, and looked me in the eyes. “Bashert,” he said.

“My bashert,” I echoed. Sammy was right. Elio was my bashert, my soulmate, and we were predestined to be together. I had thought that brief destiny had run its course twenty years ago, but now we had a lifetime together to enjoy. “Thank you, Sammy, you don’t know how much this all means to me.”

* * *

Before we went to sleep, Elio and I were reading in bed. He was resting his head on my chest, and I absentmindedly touched his back under his t-shirt. I loved our quiet moments like this, where I took comfort in just being next to him, feeling his skin against mine.

As we read, we heard a knock on the door. "Come in," I said, putting a bookmark in my book. Elio and I both sat up.

Vic opened the door, and he was crying. "Is this a bad time?" he asked.

"Of course not, I always have time for you," I said. "What's wrong?"

"Elena broke up with me," he said, sniffling. My baby's first heartbreak. Poor thing.

"Oh Pup, come here," I said, extending my arms so I could hug Vic. Instead, he crawled into bed between Elio and me, and placed his forehead on my shoulder, sobbing. I squeezed him tightly.

"Do you want me to leave?" Elio asked. Understandably, he wasn't sure what to do in this situation.

"No, it's okay," Vic said. Elio apprehensively rubbed Vic's back in support.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"She and Rocco came over tonight, and while she and I were watching a movie on my laptop in the attic, she said she hopes we keep in touch during the year and stay friends. When I asked what she meant by that, she said that we aren't actually boyfriend and girlfriend, and that she likes me and kissing me has been fun, but we live in different countries, and I should date girls in my school back at home. That we could see what happens next summer when we're both here again."

As breakups go, this wasn't terrible, but I wanted to comfort my son. "Vic, it’ll be okay,” I said, reassuringly. “She wants to stay friends with you, and she is right that you’ll be in different countries. You live on different continents.”

“It wasn’t really a break up, so much as a commitment to hanging out again next year,” Elio offered.

Vic kept his head on my shoulder. “I know, I realized all summer that it wasn’t going to last, but it still hurts,” he said. “I really like her. She was my first kiss.”

“You’ll have plenty of kisses. You’re only thirteen,” I said.

“I turn fourteen in a few weeks,” he said, trying to unsuccessfully make himself sound more mature.

“Okay, so you’re almost fourteen. You have so much time to date girls, you’re still young. I’m sure there are plenty of girls at home who have crushes on you.”

“Do you really think so?” he asked, lifting up his head. I nodded. I wasn't actually sure of that, but I couldn't say that to him. Vic didn't have that many friends at school, he was quiet and kept his head in his schoolbooks and music, but he was smart, sweet, caring and handsome, and girls his age were crazy for not jumping at the chance to date him.

“Any girl would be lucky to date you, Vic,” Elio said. “But you’ve got so much time, and you **are** going home in a few days.”

I ruffled Vic’s hair, trying to cheer him up.

“Anyway, I wasn’t kissing or dating girls at your age,” Elio said.

“To be fair, you aren’t doing that now, either,” Vic interjected.

“Touché,” Elio said, and we all started to laugh.

Vic sat with us for a little longer until we helped him calm down, and realize that it was probably for the best. Elena did let him down gently, and all things considered, she was right about most of what she said. He said that if she wanted to keep in touch, he would, and they could see what happened next summer.

* * *

 After Vic went back to the attic, Elio and I cuddled in bed. “I feel bad for Vic,” Elio said, sighing.

“He’ll get over it in time,” I said. “We’ll be there to help him, if he needs it. First heartbreak is tough…” I stopped myself, thinking that I was Elio’s first big heartbreak. He knew what I was thinking, too.

“It’s okay,” he said, taking my hand. “You and I were different. You're my bashert. And we’re together now.”

“It kills me how much I hurt you back then, though. I thought about it, still think about it, all the time.”

“Who knows what would have happened then, with us. Times were different, and you were right that we were in different places in our lives. I was just too stubborn to realize that. You and I are on the same page, now. All of the years of pain and longing brought us here. It took us a long time, but we're together, we're in love, we're partners. I'm in it for the long haul with you. Forever."

I rolled on top of him, pinning him to the bed. "I love you, Elio."

“I love you, too, Oliver,” he said, arching his neck toward me to kiss me. I returned the kiss languorously slow, pressing my body against his. Desire crept up on both of us, and before we knew it, we were sitting up, pulling off each other’s clothing. After what felt like hours of just kissing and touching and fondling and warming up, he grabbed a condom for me and slowly added more lube.

Elio rolled me onto my back, straddled my hips and gripped me while he slowly slid onto me. I muttered incomprehensibly - he was tight and warm and felt amazing.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. “I love when you’re inside of me. What am I going to do for the two weeks between when you leave and when I see you next?” Elio asked, slowly rocking his hips, leaning forward to kiss me.

“You’ll just have to think about this,” I said, gripping his hips and thrusting forcefully upward, “and hopefully it will tide you over.”

We arched our bodies toward each other, pressing skin to skin, kissing passionately, as we kept our slow rhythm going. After a few minutes, Elio sat back up and leaned back, moaning loudly.  “You are the most magnificent person I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I said, watching him writhe in pleasure as he rode me. "God, you are so sexy."

I curled my fingers around his length, and began slowly tugging. “Elio,” he said, his face contorting in contentment, as his seed surged across my stomach.

“Oliver,” I said, looking him in the eye as I climaxed.

* * *

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Elio said as we spooned, trying to fall asleep.

"Forgot what?" I asked. "I don't think we've forgotten to do anything all night."

"No, not like that," he said, laughing. "I'll be right back." Elio got out of bed, and I took a good look at his ass as he walked into the smaller bedroom. I had officially stopped thinking about it as his room, since even when he was alone he took naps in here. This was our room.

He came back, and took a leather watch out of his hand. "You keep looking at your wrist, and forgetting that you gave me your watch," he said.

"I wanted you to have it," I said. "It's just a force of habit."

"I know, and I rarely plan on taking it off. But you wore a watch and keep looking for one on your wrist, and then I remembered that I had this from when I was a kid. Mafalda and Manfredi gave it to me as a birthday present when I was younger and really into comics. I wore it for years until I thought I was too cool for it and switched to that digital watch. I had a new band put on it to fit you. I figured I'd get you a real watch one day, but I found this in my drawer I thought it would be funny... "

Elio handed me a watch, with a white cartoon dog on its face, whose paws were the hour and minute hands. "Who is this?" I asked, looking at the watch.

"It's Milou!" he said with perfect French pronunciation, as if that was an obvious answer.

"Who is Milou? Is he like a French Mickey Mouse? The boys both had Mickey watches when they were little, to teach them how to tell time."

"He's Tintin's dog! Did you not read the Tintin comics growing up? I think he might be called Snowy in English."

I shook my head. I'd heard of Tintin but wasn't terribly familiar.

"Nope, I grew up on Charlie Brown and Snoopy. Please tell me you know who they are."

Elio jabbed me in the ribs. "Of course I know who they are."

I put the watch on and laughed. "I will cherish this always."

Elio cocked his head, a bit embarrassed. "You don't have to wear it..."

I smiled widely. "No, I love it. It's a part of your past, a part of you, and I will proudly wear it. Even if no one knows who this dog is."

“Everyone knows Milou. Except you, apparently,” Elio said, laughing as he snuggled back against me so we could go to bed.

* * *

The weekend arrived before we knew it, and most of the villa was preparing to go into town for the carnival. Elio had spoken to Marzia in the morning, and we’d be meeting her there in the  mid-afternoon. Anchise was off running errands, and Mafalda took the day off to go to the carnival with Manfredi. Sammy and Annella drove the kids into town, and Elio and I planned on riding our bikes and meeting them there.

Once we had the villa to ourselves, we decided to take advantage of the alone time and went through the list of places I had drunkenly emailed Elio about earlier in the year, figuring this was our last opportunity to do depraved things with each other around the villa. I sucked him off while he played the piano for me. He ate me out while I leaned against the dinner table. We made love in heaven. It was the perfect prelude to a busy afternoon, time for the two of us to be alone, and have each other. After, we cleaned and disinfected the villa to hide the evidence, washed ourselves up, changed, and headed into town, not too much later than we had promised to be there.

We rode our bikes to the town square and quickly found Marzia and Thierry. "Oncle Elly! Encle Ollie!" Noemie screamed, running into Elio's arms.

"She's not going to give that up, is she?" I asked Marzia.

"No, it looks as if the nickname has stuck, Encle Ollie," she added, stressing the last word. Wonderful.

Noemie grabbed Elio’s right hand with her left, and my left hand with her right. "I never noticed your Milou watch! I love Tintin!" Noemie said, looking at my wrist. Elio stifled a chuckle. Noemie then insisted on escorting us to each booth and vendor. "Maman already bought me a slice of pizza and a soda from that booth but she said we should wait to have more food until you get here. We were waiting forever! Where were you?"

Elio smirked at me, which Marzia noticed. She knew what we were up to. The only person who could read Elio even better was his mother. "They were finishing up some work, mon cherie."

Noemie brought us to Elio's favorite arancini stand, where I bought a plate of rice balls for all of us to share. "Delizioso!" Noemie said to the vendor after she took a bite of her rice ball. I was still impressed that before the age of four, she was mostly fluent in three languages and for the most part, knew what language to use when. If Elio decided he wanted to have a child, I wondered if our future kid would also be trilingual.

Elio and I also grabbed ourselves slices of pizza, then we found his parents, who were sitting at a table with a grumpy looking Vic. I looked around and saw Ari dancing with Jasmine on the makeshift dance floor. I liked how comfortable he looked dancing with her, with no inhibitions.

"Why are you so sad?" Noemie asked Vic, her face covered in tomato sauce from the bite she took from Elio's pizza.

"We go home in a few days, and I don't want the summer to end," he said. Also, he was still getting over the heartbreak, but he was internalizing that.

"Don't be sad," she said. "You will be back here next summer! And you're going to teach me piano then!"

"Noemie never forgets anything," Thierry said, laughing.

"I promise I will teach you piano next summer," Vic said, trying to cheer up.

After we ate, Noemie dragged Elio to the dance floor so he could dance with her. The rest of us watched them dancing together, and Vic took a few pictures.

"He is so good with her," Marzia said to me, holding her hand to her chest and smiling. "He will be a good step father to your boys. He and Vic already have such a good relationship."

I nodded, smiling. "He's great with my kids."

"Would you ever think about having another kid, with Elio?" she asked.

"Maybe one day, in the next few years. Ari is almost an adult already. I always thought I was done having kids, but if Elio wanted to have a baby, to adopt or use a surrogate, I would happily raise a child together with him."

Annella looked lovingly at Sammy. I know she wanted grandchildren of her own. She adored my boys, but she wanted a baby to spoil. Noemie had been filling that void, but she wasn’t her actual grandchild.

Noemie soon grabbed Vic and made him dance with her, which was all sorts of adorable, and I noticed Elio walk over to the DJ and request something. This piqued my interest. Suddenly, the next song began and I heard a familiar marimba introduction. Elio grinned and beckoned me over.

I joined him on the dance floor, and jumped around, dancing happily. “I can’t believe you requested _Love My Way_. We’re probably the only ones here who even know this song,” I said, moving my fists above my head like I used to do.

“We can finally dance to this song, together, in public” he said, leaning in close as he shimmied.

Ari, Jasmine, Rocco and a few of the other teenagers were dancing near us, and Ari said, “Hey, Dad, isn’t this the song you would sing to me as a kid? You’d say ‘ _There’s an Ari on the dance floor_ …’”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” I said, blushing. Elio smiled and took my hand, dancing against me, in a much more chaste way than we danced at the club in Rome. We sang along to the rest of the song as we danced, jumping up and down, and Ari and Vic both shook their heads, pretending to be embarrassed of their father. I decided to just let loose and have a good time. We only had two more days left in our summer, I loved dancing with Elio, and I didn’t care who saw.

Over the next few pop songs, including a Justin Timberlake song I actually recognized, Elio and I danced together, with Noemie, with Marzia and Thierry, and even with (well, near) Ari and Vic. The DJ played a slower song I didn’t recognize, and Elio wrapped his arms around my neck as I wrapped his arms around his waist. We held each other close as we swayed to the music. “I love you,” he mouthed quietly, and after I echoed the sentiment, I bent down to gently kiss him. Elio and I were dancing together, kissing in public, in the town square. It felt surreal. We looked around, and noticed we weren’t even the only same sex couple dancing together, which made me smile. I was happy that things were changing for the better.

As most couples slow-danced, Vic was dancing with Noemie, holding her hand above her head while she twirled around, pretending to be a ballerina. He was sweet with her - maybe he would be okay with having a little sibling one day? Elena then awkwardly approached the dance floor, tapped Vic’s shoulder, and said something. Noemie ran over to Marzia and Thierry to dance with them, and Vic started apprehensively dancing with Elena. I hoped he wouldn’t get his heart broken any further, but he seemed okay. It was just an innocent dance.

The DJ next played another European pop song, and all of the teenagers, my sons included, joined a circle and started jumping around together. Elio and I decided to take a breather, so we sat back down and joined his parents, who had gotten us glasses of wine. We spent the rest of the day chatting with his parents and our friends, dancing, eating more food than we should have, and just enjoyed each other’s company and everything the town had to offer. This carnival really was the perfect way to send off the perfect summer.

* * *

When Elio and I got to lunch the next day, Ari and Jasmine were already sitting at the table on Ari’s laptop, going over one of his college applications.

“I think you should let your dad read this,” Jasmine said. “It’s good.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good enough personal statement, though,” he said.

“If it’s anything like your Hemingway paper, I’m sure it’s fantastic,” Elio said, sitting at the table.

Sammy sat at the head of the table and adjusted his eyeglasses. “Do you want me to take a look?”

“Should I just read it to everyone, so you can all get your comments in at once?” Ari suggested. “That way I don’t have to sit nervously as each of you reads and edits?”

I smiled. “Sure - better make it quick, though. Mafalda doesn’t like when we have our computers at the table when she’s going to serve food.”

Ari nodded and gulped. “This is still a rough draft, but here goes nothing. The question I chose to answer from the Common Application is: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.”

**I will never forget that fateful day when I was pulled out of my AP World History class by my guidance counselor. My father was sitting in the principal's office, and my younger brother, Vic, was sobbing, with his head on my dad's lap. I immediately knew that something had happened to my mother. A "wintery mix" of rain, snow and ice caused the road to become slippery and gave her limited visibility, so my mother's car veered of the road and hit a tree when she was on her way to work.**

**"It happened quickly, there was no pain," my father tried to explain. But it was painful for us. No condolence card, sympathy basket, shiva call, or sad look could bring my mother back. She was the glue that held our family together, and now she was gone. We saw grief counselors and therapists, and no one took it harder than my father. After that February morning, he just wasn't the same. He tried to keep it together for my brother and me, made every attempt to make sure our lives still went on, even if some of his did not.**

**For the most part, our lives did go on. My father went back to work. I still played soccer. My brother continued his piano lessons. I was chosen as captain of the debate team and was cast as the lead in the school musical. Academically and socially, I was actually thriving. But as much as Vic and I tried to help our father, nothing seemed to work. He lost the spark that made him the jolly, lively person he once was, lost the ‘it factor’ that caused everyone who met him to become immediately enamored. I've always been told I'm a clone of my father, from looks to scholastic and athletic abilities to size. Maybe it's just the blond hair and height (I am well over six feet tall like he is), and not to brag, but we could both walk into a room and instantly turn heads and make new friends. After my mother died, Dad was no longer like that. He became docile and reserved. Vic and I didn't know what to do.**

**Then, at my brother's Bar Mitzvah, we briefly saw him reconnect with someone we didn't know. When he talked to this man, it was the first time we'd seen our father come alive in over six months. After doing some secret investigative work, we discovered that this man and my father had briefly dated, in secret, for a summer when my father was in graduate school. For many reasons, including geography and societal pressure, they couldn't be together once the summer ended.**

**Vic and I hatched a truly genius plan to set my father up with this man. We thought it might be the thing that awakened him from his depression - he was already going to therapy and trying everything else, but nothing seemed to be working.**

**Long story short, I earned an amazing opportunity to intern in Italy with Professor Samuel Perlman, and my family was able to come with me. My father's former paramour happened to also be there. This summer truly changed all of our lives. I learned a lot about myself, including that I really enjoy Greek and Roman art and literature, and want to major in classics. Working with Professor Perlman was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He gave me an appreciation for ancient art and culture, taught me how to do intensive academic research, and even let me write some of the papers we're publishing in journals in the fall. Spending a summer in a small town in Italy has been an incredible cultural experience. Most importantly, this summer in Italy changed my family for the better. Through some clever nudging and a bit of trickery on behalf of my brother and me, my father did reconnect with his old love, they are now together, and this time, their relationship can and will continue beyond the confines of the summer.**

**Being with him and finally being public about their relationship has completely opened my father up. He's happy again. He smiles again. He makes cheesy jokes again. It's hard to really explain the marked, tangible and immediate change we witnessed in my father's demeanor, but I am incredibly glad to have my father back. We still miss my mother, will always miss her terribly, and my father's partner will never replace her, because she was one of a kind, but he has brought a much needed light and levity into our family, for which I am infinitely thankful.**

**In his Bar Mitzvah speech, my brother talked about this concept in Judaism called Tikkun Olam. Basically, it means that you have this responsibility to help repair the world, so you should do both small and large things to help positively affect the world and the people in it. Though I would obviously love to help fix the planet, and I wish this essay was about how I eradicated cancer or solved global warming or achieved peace in the Middle East, I'm just seventeen, and haven't had enough time to make that sort of impact on the world. On a micro level, my family is my world. By pushing my father to find love and happiness after losing my mother, I have helped repair my world just a little.**

When Ari finished reading, he closed his laptop, and went to go bring his computer inside. We all sat in silence for a minute, and pretty soon, the whole table was a mess of happy tears. Elio was holding my hand, squeezing as tight as possible.

“It was terrible, wasn’t it…” he said, hiding his face.

“Oh, sweetheart, that was just lovely,” Annella said. She looked over at Elio and me, and nodded approvingly. I stood up and went over to Ari, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close.

“I love you, kiddo,” I said. Ari put his computer down on his seat and relented, allowing me to hug him for longer.

“Is it okay that I wrote about you, about kind of private things? I tried to keep it as vague as possible...” Ari asked. I nodded, trying not to cry any more than I already had.

“It was beautiful, Ari. I don’t mind.” I couldn’t help myself, and immediately went into father and professor mode. “We need to do a few more edits, make it sound a little less colloquial and maybe talk a little more about you, but I think the admissions committee will love it.”

Elio stood up and walked over to us. “Can I hug you?” Elio asked Ari. He hadn’t been sure where he stood with Ari, and the personal statement told him everything. Ari nodded, and Elio swept Ari into a warm hug, neither of them able to stymie the flow of tears.

Ari eventually wriggled loose from the hug, and said, “Let me go bring my laptop back inside so we can eat now…”

We all spent the rest of the day, our last day in Italy this summer, together, eating lunch, swimming in the pool, and lazing around the villa. None of us wanted this day, or this summer, to end, but we knew we’d all be back here again next June to do it all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bashert means soulmate in Yiddish (the language spoken by Eastern European/Ashkenazi Jews). It's kind of a really intense word in Judaism - it's like... your one and only, the person who is your one true destiny. Real romance novel sort of thing.
> 
> Also, you can finally see why I called the series Tikkun Olam :) I've been planning on that being Ari's college essay since the beginning, but the story kind of got away from me and became a lot longer than I had originally planned...
> 
> I've been debating between calling this series Bashert, or just calling it Tikkun Olam (once I get the sequel started). What do you all think?
> 
> Where are you all planning on going once tumblr implodes? Is everyone going to stick around? I've been on and off tumblr for the better part of a decade, so I'm probably going to keep on there for a while unless everyone else jumps ship. Let me know if there's a better site where the fandom is going to congregate, and I'll gladly join up!
> 
> Sorry for the delay in this chapter - I've been trying to get it right, and it took a while to get everything down and to find some time to edit.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and for commenting. Have I ever mentioned that you're all the best?


	72. I Can't Wait for Next Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter in this part of the story! Stay tuned in a few weeks for the sequel!

_**POV: Vic, August 20, 2007** _

We woke up so early to drive to the airport on our last day. Instead of sending a cab for us, like they did on the way in, the Perlmans insisted on driving us to the airport themselves, in their Fiat and in Anchise’s car. Dad let me sit in the front with Annella, and he squished in the backseat with Elio. Ari was in the second car driven by Sammy, with Jasmine tagging along. Sammy said that he and Jasmine had some last minute work to do at the university, so the airport was basically on the way, but I think they all just wanted to be there to see us off.

Mafalda made us a big breakfast, and she sent us home with more cookies and pastries than we thought we’d be able to carry through security. She hugged us goodbye, kissed us each on the cheek, and we promised we’d see her soon. Dad said we’d have to wait until we have our school and extra-curricular schedules for the semester, but if we can find cheap enough flights and we won’t be too busy, we might be able to go to Italy during our winter break.

I loved this summer so much. I usually have a hard time making friends - I don’t know how Ari does it so easily. Everyone always wants to be Ari’s friend. Other teenagers actually wanted to spend time with me this summer. Maybe it was as a favor to Ari, but they all came to my concert, to see me play, and they were all so nice to me all summer. The concert may have been one of the best days of my life.

Also, I found a girl who actually wanted to kiss me. I knew that things with Elena wouldn’t work out beyond the summer, but it still hurt when she ended things. I had hope that we’d hang out a lot again in the future, though. Dad and Elio were right that we live in different countries, and we weren't actually dating. I didn’t want to go home yet, but at least I knew we’d definitely be back next summer.

Dad and Elio spent the whole car ride to the airport holding hands and cuddling in the backseat, whispering to each other and kissing. They were both trying unsuccessfully not to cry, but I didn’t really get why they were crying - Elio was going to visit us in two weeks, for my birthday. I guess when they spent pretty much every moment of the past two months together, separating for two weeks would be difficult.

* * *

I liked Elio a lot, and he was really, really good to Dad, and also to Ari and me. Elio was madly in love with Dad, and we could tell that Dad immediately felt the same way about him. He spent so much of his time this summer working with me, teaching me music theory and how to compose, and he didn’t have to do any of that. Elio had his own composing to do, his own lesson plans to write, and he got nothing out of working with me. I don’t even think he did it to impress Dad or get closer to him - I think he did it because he genuinely cared about me, after we’d spent the past year emailing and talking. I don't know if I'm allowed to call him my friend, given that he will very likely be my step father one day, but I feel a kinship with Elio that I am very grateful for.

After Mom died, Dad became a different person. He did everything he was supposed to - he took me to school, he cooked for us, he helped us with our homework. But he changed, he was sad and broken, and Ari and I didn’t know what to do to help him. For what it’s worth, Ari also changed - I heard him crying sometimes when he was alone in his bedroom. I cried, too, but I never tried to hide it. Sometimes, though, I had to tough it out, and be strong, for my father and my brother. I’m the youngest one in the family, but I had to be the one to keep it together, to make sure Dad and Ari didn’t unravel even further. I love them both so much, and I just wanted them to be better. While Ari spent his time chasing girls, and Dad spent his time sulking and drinking whiskey, I had my music to help me. Elio was a big help with that over last year, sending me sheet music to play and giving me suggestions for audition pieces. I also really liked the books and movies he suggested for me to consume. Sometimes, it was cathartic when I emailed him - he became my closest confidante, someone removed from my daily life with whom I could talk about things, who didn't judge me for being weird. That would probably change now that he was an active part of our lives, but I appreciated everything he did last year.

When Ari and I first saw Dad kissing Elio at my Bar Mitzvah, I was initially confused. I mean, when your father was married to your mother, a woman, until her recent death, it’s shocking to see him kissing another person, especially when that person is a man. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it didn’t bother me after the initial shock. I missed Mom. Obviously I missed Mom. I would never NOT miss Mom. But, it became abundantly clear how Dad and Elio felt about each other, and I had to do something.

Dad was in love, and I wanted him to be happy. He’d been so depressed, so unhappy, for months, and if being with Elio would make him happy, then that was what I wanted for him. Elio was going to be a good addition to our family. I didn’t care if my Dad was straight, gay, bi, or whatever. I just wanted him to find the happiness and love that he and Mom always said they wanted Ari and me to have. Also, our mother was the best, and no woman could ever replace her in our lives. If Dad married Elio, then there would never be a woman who tried to replace her. Obviously Elio's gender didn't matter to me, but maybe it helped me heal a little more at first because he wasn't a woman. I don't know. I sometimes felt guilty for thinking that thought.

Ari likes to take the credit, but this whole summer couldn’t have happened without me. Spending the summer in Italy was my idea. Ari’s cockamamie internship was my idea. I’m the one who got all of the information about their past relationship out of Elio. Everyone always assumes that I’m naive because I’m nice and sweet and look innocent, but I also know how to manipulate people when I need to, and get what I want out of them. 

When you're nice to people, they do nice things for you. At least, adults do. Kids are cruel and being a nice person just makes it easier for them to make fun of you. But I prefer the company of adults, anyway. Most other kids don't really like what I like, and don't really get me. It's fine, and I'm used to it. That's why this summer was so special. I had peers who actually enjoyed spending time with me and didn't mind how much I talked about or played music. 

We all had life-changing summers. Because of me and my clever thinking, Dad reconnected with the love of his life (Ari and I both agreed that it was strange that our mother wasn’t the love of his life, but he’s a whole new person when he’s with Elio), Ari found a great girlfriend and lost his virginity, and I had my first kiss.

Jasmine is the first girl that Ari’s ever dated who has treated me like a person and not like some nuisance she has to put up with to be with Ari. Even after she and Ari started sleeping together, Jasmine and I would sometimes swim together or go into town or play chess together just the two of us - she taught me chess earlier in the summer. I think she wanted to make sure that I didn’t feel like a third wheel or feel left out, but she was always so genuinely nice to me. She’s also the smartest person I’ve ever met, and she would tell me random facts about pretty much anything and everything. I’m so happy that Ari fell for someone like her, someone pretty who also has a brain, because I’d like her to stick around for a while.

I loved the villa, I loved Italy, and I loved the Perlmans. They’re like the grandparents I never knew I needed, and they welcomed us with open arms into their lives. I never really knew Dad’s parents - they both died before I was in kindergarten, and Mom’s parents both died when I was in elementary school. The Perlmans were lively, and smart, and always made sure I felt welcomed in any conversation at the dinner table and in their home. I know you’re not supposed to play favorites, but I loved spending time with Annella most of all. When Ari was out with Jasmine, she would sit with me at the pool, she sometimes read me stories and poetry, and she would teach me some French and Italian while we gardened together. Annella promised that when they came to visit during the year, she’d help me start a small garden in our backyard. Even though I couldn’t really communicate with Mafalda that much because I don’t speak Italian and she doesn’t speak much English, I also liked spending time in the kitchen with her. She taught me how to make gelato and her amazing tortelli. I was going to miss her cooking so much.

* * *

When we got to the airport, everyone was smiling, but everyone seemed really sad. We went to print our boarding passes and check our bags, and then we went back to the Perlmans and Jasmine, who were standing together quietly. Jasmine and Ari were full-on making out, and Jasmine had to keep stopping so she could wipe her tears. “We’ll see each other soon,” Ari said. “And we’ll video chat every day when you get back.”

“When I have my syllabi and you know your soccer and debate schedules, you’ll work it out with your Dad and figure out when we can visit each other?” Jasmine said. Ari nodded, and bent down to kiss her again.

Elio and Dad kept whispering to each other. Dad’s hands were around Elio’s waist, and they were pressing their bodies against each other. They weren’t making out like Ari and Jasmine were, but they did keep kissing each other. “You’ll call me when you land?” Elio said.

“Of course I will,” Dad said. “This isn’t goodbye, not like last time.”

“I wish I was going back with you, to Boston,” Elio said sadly.

“Enjoy the last week with your parents. We’ll talk every day, and before you know it, we’ll be together again.”

Elio and Dad both nodded and kissed again, holding each other tightly. An older man and woman walking by to the check-in counter stared at them for a moment and said something in Italian that Sammy was about to respond to. Annella grabbed his arm and told him to calm down. It’s probably for the best that I didn’t know what they said, because I might have said something nasty to them or tried to hurt them. I was not going to stand for people saying bad things about Dad and Elio.

Annella placed her hand on my shoulder and said, “We’re going to miss having you around. It was such a delight having you here all summer, mio piccino,” she said, giving me a hug.

“You’ll have to record yourself playing piano - what are we going to listen to after dinner now?” Sammy said with a chuckle, and hugged me from behind, putting me into a Perlman sandwich. I didn’t mind this at all.

“I can’t wait for next summer,” I said. "I loved it here so much."

"You're welcome here any time," Annella said. "You're going to Skype us every week, like we do with Elio, right?"

"Yes, I'll email you once I know my school rehearsal schedule," I said, still stuck in my embrace between Annella and Sammy.

"Make sure to keep in touch, we want to know how everything is going! If you know your concert schedules far enough in advance, maybe we can plan a visit around seeing you perform?"

I blushed and smiled, as the Perlmans finally let go of me. "You don't have to do that... you already came to my concert this summer."

"Nonsense, we'd go to every concert if we could," Annella said.

Jasmine came over to me and gave me a hug, and we all said goodbye. "I bought you something for your birthday," she said, "but Ari packed it in his suitcase, with instructions that he can't give it to you until then. I hope you'll like it!"

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Not a chance," she said, with a grin. "It was great spending time with you this summer. I'll come up to visit at some point during the semester, and we'll find time for the two of us to sit together and catch up."

Elio came over to me next, and I hugged him tightly. "Thank you for everything this summer," I said. "I learned so much, and I couldn't have composed my first song without your help."

"You're so talented, Vic. I just taught you the basics. You did it on your own," he said.

"I'll see you in a couple of weeks?" I said.

"I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything," Elio said.

Meanwhile, Dad was standing with Sammy and Annella, each of them giving him a very tight hug. "Thank you," Dad said. "For letting us stay with you, for being so wonderful, just... for everything. Thank you. I love you both," he said, with tears in his eyes.

"We love you, too, Oliver," Annella said, kissing Dad's cheek.

Sammy then said, "We love you, son. Take good care of yourself, and the boys, and we'll see you soon."

Elio gripped Dad tightly again, and they hugged for a long time. They whispered to each other once more, and kissed again. "Two weeks," Elio said.

"Two weeks. I love you, Elio."

"I love you, Oliver. Now, go through security so you don't miss your flight."

Dad nodded and squeezed Elio one more time, before grabbing his suitcase. We waved at the Perlmans and Jasmine as we handed our passports and boarding passes to the agent at the security line. Dad and Elio mouthed that they loved each other once more. Annella was squeezing Jasmine's shoulder, and Sammy was rubbing Elio's back.

Once we made our way through security and found our gate, Ari, Dad and I sat down, and waited until our flight boarded. Ari had his head on Dad's shoulder, and they both looked miserable.

"Are you two okay? Do you want me to go get you any chocolate or food or something?" I asked.

"I'm okay," Dad said. "Leaving was much harder than I thought it was going to be."

"Elio's going to move in with us in the spring. You don't have to wait that long," I said, trying to be helpful.

* * *

On the flight home, Dad and I were on my laptop, looking through the pictures that I had taken all summer. He stopped for a while on the picture of him and Elio, kissing below the Eiffel Tower. He went back to the picture before that, where he and Elio were staring lovingly at each other, as if there was no one else in that park near the Eiffel Tower.

"Do you think I should make this my Facebook profile picture when I get home?" he asked. His current picture was a family picture from my Bar Mitzvah.

"Ugh, that's so sappy," Ari said, leaning across the aisle to look at the computer.

"You should do it, it's nice," I said to Dad. "And Ari, didn't you change your profile picture yesterday to one of you and Jasmine?"

"Yeah, but that's different," he said in a huffy tone, knowing that I was right.

Dad took my laptop and looked through the pictures again, stopping at a few pictures I had taken of Elio, at the piano, at the dinner table, at the pool with Dad. He got to a picture of Elio and me that Jasmine had taken, and sighed happily as he smiled.

Because of me, Dad and Ari were both in happy, loving relationships. I didn't want or need any credit. I love my father and brother, and would do anything to make them happy. As Ari wrote in his essay, we'd helped repair our world just a little, and in the process, gained a new family and happy memories of this summer.

The Morgenstern men had been through a lot these past two years, and we were still healing. Whatever life threw at us, we could handle together. Though the summer was ending, our adventure was just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vic finally gets to have his say!
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for sticking with me through the end. I'm going to start posting the sequel in a week or two.
> 
> I realized that it was a lucky coincidence that the story has 72 chapters. 18 is a lucky number in Jewish mysticism/culture, and multiples of 18 are considered to be lucky, too (e.g., you give a multiple of 18 as a wedding present or a bar mitzvah gift). It just works with the whole Jewish aspect of the story, so... let's say I planned this all along :)
> 
> Seriously, you are all the best readers. To those of you who've commented, to everyone who's been reading this since August, to those of you who recently started reading, to those of you who will discover this in the future: THANK YOU. Thank you for reading, thank you for commenting, thank you for being such a wonderful community. I love and appreciate you all.
> 
> If you ever want to chat, reach out on [tumblr](https://noodlekugel.tumblr.com/) (as long as the site is still up), or comment on here, now or in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I always appreciate comments and kudos!
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [tumblr](https://noodlekugel.tumblr.com) (I'm noodlekugel on there, if the link is broken), and I'll follow you back! We can chat about the movie, the book, the boys, the fic, and more!


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